


How to Restart a War (Heaven and Hell Can Make You Paranoid)

by The_Bentley



Series: Best of Both Worlds [1]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Anal Sex, Angel Crowley (Good Omens), Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxious Aziraphale (Good Omens), BAMF Aziraphale (Good Omens), Canon Non-Binary Character, Cohabitation, Comfort, Domestic Bliss, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Falling In Love, Female Crowley (Good Omens), Flashbacks, Fluff, Food as a Metaphor for Love, Friendship, Homophobia, Humiliation, Idiots in Love, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Ineffable Idiots (Good Omens), Light Dom/sub, M/M, Marriage, Marriage Proposal, Non-Graphic Violence, Nonbinary Crowley (Good Omens), Oral Sex, Outdoor Sex, Past Torture, Pining, Plot Twists, Post-Apocalypse, Pre-Fall (Good Omens), Pregnancy, Pregnant Crowley (Good Omens), Protective Aziraphale (Good Omens), Protective Crowley (Good Omens), Same-Sex Marriage, Semi-Public Sex, Sex, Snake Crowley (Good Omens), South Downs Cottage (Good Omens), Stalking, Travel, Vaginal Sex, Wing Grooming, Wings, Worried Crowley (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-10
Updated: 2019-11-10
Packaged: 2020-06-25 18:41:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 67,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19751548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Bentley/pseuds/The_Bentley
Summary: A revenge-driven Hastur stalks Crowley post-apocalypse-that-wasn't, forcing Crowley to turn to Aziraphale for help.  While Crowley struggles with the anxiety brought on by being stalked, Aziraphale struggles with his feelings for Crowley.  But that's just the beginning.  Events are happening that could lead to another attempted Apocalypse, namely Heaven and Hell have found out a way to create a hybrid angel/demon that can take the place of the Antichrist and restart the War.  Guess who is once again in the thick of it, only this time their roles are ones they never imagined.





	1. Come Hell or Holy Water

**Author's Note:**

> Aziraphale and Crowley present as male, but Word of God is they are actually genderless. I explore that a bit, so that's the reason for the "Other" designation in the relationships category.
> 
> Yes, I changed the title. The story's kind of blossomed beyond just the Hastur storyline. I wasn't sure what to call it and if someone has something better, let me know, but "Hell Can Make You Paranoid" only addresses a few of the chapters. I have no idea where this behemoth is going or anything, to be honest. God help me. 😆

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Crowley had not said a word about Aziraphale taking his hand in his last night or Aziraphale’s embarrassment about the situation. On one hand, the angel was relieved, on the other he wished Crowley had actually wanted to talk about it. He had loved Crowley since the Blitz; that fateful night Crowley diverted Nazi bombs to save not only Aziraphale’s skin but his precious books. Crowley seemed to think of Aziraphale as more of a best friend._

Hastur had been dogging his steps for the last couple of days. Crowley had caught a glimpse of him outside Aziraphale’s bookshop, seen him just for a moment standing beside a tree in the park across from his flat and noticed him walking by the Bentley while he and Aziraphale were strolling back to it after an afternoon at St. James’ Park. Revenge for Ligur’s death was at the top of Hastur’s mind; Crowley just knew it. It didn’t matter that his trial in Hell resulted in him – or Aziraphale in his body, more accurately – fearfully being declared “gone native” and hastily ushered to the surface with the promise that he’d be left alone if he left them alone. Hastur would take revenge the first chance he got, even if he thought Crowley was essentially unable to be killed outright. Discorporating him would create quite the issue for Crowley, given he no longer had a side.

A bit concerned, he made a note to talk to Aziraphale about obtaining more holy water. This time Crowley was sure he’d be more accommodating. 

He was wrong.

“Absolutely not, Crowley,” said Aziraphale firmly as he counted the sparse amount of money in his till, a nightly ritual even though it was rare he ever sold a book. “You’re talking about carrying a vial of it around in your pocket. That is incredibly dangerous. I will not give you a gun with which to accidentally shoot yourself. It would be a different matter entirely if you were going to just keep it in your flat like last time.”

“He’s a Duke of Hell, angel,” Crowley replied bitterly. “I’m not even a local counsellor. You know if he decides to attack, I don’t stand a chance without _something_ to even the odds. It’s not like I wouldn’t have it in a sealed plastic bag just for safety’s sake.”

Aziraphale slammed the till drawer shut with more force than necessary. “And if you do happen to spill some on yourself? Then what? It’ll destroy you, that’s what. No. I can’t let that happen. You’ll stay here until he gets bored with stalking you. I don’t use the little flat upstairs except for a bit of storage in the bedroom.”

“Can’t we just swap bodies or something? You could smite him if he attacks thinking it’s me.”

“No. First, I like my body very much. Yours is all legs which works very well for you but doesn’t for me. Second, three or four days of your spirit in my body and it’ll start to develop snake eyes thanks to your divine curse. It would be very suspicious if I suddenly started running around in sunglasses all the time.”

“Just go out there and smite him, then!”

Aziraphale gave his friend a soft, empathic look, “Oh Crowley, you know I can’t. I have to keep my head down, same as you. Things will calm down in time, but it’s too soon. It was only August. I’ll ward the doors and windows. I’ll be your bodyguard if you want or need to go somewhere. He’s bound to give up after a while if he can’t get to you. It won’t be that bad. It’s not like we don’t do things together anyway and neither of us has to work since our people haven’t contacted us.”

“Once again, angel, they’re not going to contact you. We no longer have sides. And it’s just . . .” Crowley trailed off, looking dejected as he slouched down even further in the overstuffed couch he was occupying. 

“I’ll get the rooms cleaned up for you. You can just summon your stuff over and put it where you want,” Aziraphale replied, ignoring the repeat assertion that he was no longer a fully-fledged member of the Heavenly Host. Crowley figured in time he’d get used to the idea. “We can put all your houseplants down here. It’ll actually be lovely to have some greenery around. There’s enough light coming in the windows for them, I believe.”

He sat himself beside Crowley on the couch, taking his hand. “I know, my dear. It’s not the best situation and I’m going to do all I can so you don’t feel like some kind of prisoner here. We’ll get through this together.”

Crowley looked first at Aziraphale then gazed down at the manicured hand enclosing his. Blushing a shade of red bright enough to rival Crowley’s hair, the angel pulled his hand back and quickly headed up the spiral staircase to miracle away a century’s worth of dust.

~*~*~

Crowley turned the rooms upstairs into a likeness of his Mayfair flat, right down to the plush white carpet and light grey walls, even though he had to defy physics to do so. His healthiest houseplants lined the walls, but he conceded to give Aziraphale a couple that were developing leaf spots so long as Aziraphale put them in the back parts of the bookshop where Crowley did not venture. It would not do to look soft.

Aziraphale did not quite understand the strange ritual of Crowley yelling at them, tossing them brusquely out the back door then instructing the angel to not go out there to collect them until he was out of view. But he was willing to go through with such a pantomime for a couple of plants he could nurse back to health. They did brighten up the place.

Crowley had not said a word about Aziraphale taking his hand in his last night or Aziraphale’s embarrassment about the situation. On one hand, the angel was relieved, on the other he wished Crowley had actually wanted to talk about it. He had loved Crowley since the Blitz; that fateful night Crowley diverted Nazi bombs to save not only Aziraphale’s skin but his precious books. Crowley seemed to think of Aziraphale as more of a best friend. A best friend he was tightly bonded with, but still just a best friend.

Aziraphale knew he shouldn’t complain. He was a being made to love while Crowley spend millennia convincing himself he was evil and suppressing most of his positive emotions. It took him six thousand years and one almost-Apocalypse to realize, but Aziraphale finally did – he wasn’t that different than Crowley in the grand scheme of things and if life in Heaven had been fairer, the demon wouldn’t have Fallen simply for asking questions. Sometimes he wondered if Crowley’s Fall and his posting as the Guardian of the Eastern Gate was just part of the ineffable Plan, part of a thousands-of-years-long scheme to get Adam Young where he needed to be so that he refused to destroy the world. 

No sense worrying about it now, he decided as he closed up shop and placed ward after ward on any possible entrance into the building and alarm spells just inside of said entrances in case the wards were not strong enough to keep a Duke of Hell out. At least then they’d have a fighting chance. To ease Crowley’s mind, he went through the trouble of blessing some holy water and stashing vials of it here and there throughout the shelves in places customers hopefully would not find.

Finished with the downstairs, he headed up to finish his work, leaving Crowley’s space for last. When his knock on the door went unanswered, he carefully opened it a crack to see the demon staring out the window in the area he turned into a copy of his lounge. He announced his presence and entered when Crowley responded with a distracted wave over his shoulder.

“My dear, watching for him through the windows is not going to help your paranoia.”

“We still could go to Alpha Centauri. At least temporarily,” Crowley turned worried serpentine eyes to Aziraphale. In the privacy of the bookshop he had taken to not wearing the sunglasses.

Aziraphale gave him a confident smile as he got on with the warding of the windows up here. 

“I don’t think that’ll be necessary. I’ve set up warding and alarm spells on every possible entrance in here. You know where I’ve hidden holy water, too,” he waggled a finger at Crowley. “If I find you’re carrying it around in your pockets, I’m confiscating it all.”

Although Aziraphale couldn’t see how that was possible, at least in the bookshop itself anyway. Crowley didn’t wear his stylish jacket inside and it would be hard to believe he could stuff anything other than his slim hands into those extremely tight-fitting jeans. He briefly thought that it was lucky circulation wasn’t a necessary bodily function for demons because he was certain Crowley’s legs weren’t getting any.

Crowley nodded sullenly, but did not leave the window. Aziraphale changed the subject.

“I don’t remember there being so many rooms up here. But it looks great. Just like your flat. What did you do with your car?”

“I stuck it in a bubble dimension where it’ll be safe. It’s off the back alley so don’t muck with it.”

“Oh. Would you like to go somewhere for lunch? Or head to St. James’? We don’t have to stay cooped up in here, you know. I can stay vigilant and protect you.” 

“Nah, I think I’ll just pull up a film on the TV. You’re welcome to come watch with me.”

“Want me to get some delivery? The café across the street has the most wonderful pastries. I know places that we can order sushi from, or anything, really.”

“I’m fine, Aziraphale.” Crowley momentarily turned away from the window. “You know, for about twenty years several decades ago Hell left me completely alone. You happened to be doing a lot of missions so I got bored. Took some cooking classes because it’s no fun to eat out alone and miracled food just doesn’t taste the same. It’s been a while, but if you like, I’ll make something later for us.” 

Aziraphale just started at him, “You cook? I’ve never seen you eat anything at home but takeout.”

“It was a short-lived hobby. But I think I remember enough to make something simple like shepherd’s pie if you’ll eat that.” Crowley gave a nonchalant shrug. “It’s a distraction, ok? Don’t make a big deal out of it.”

“Crowley, you could make American burgers and fries and I would be happy to eat them.”

“I’ll see what’s in the fridge and put something together.”

“I can always head out to do some food shopping if you want me to.”

“Angel, you’ve never set foot in a market in your life. You wouldn’t know what to get even if I gave you a list. We’ll go out tomorrow and I can teach you the fine art of shopping for food.”

Aziraphale gave him one of his brightest smiles. “I think I’d like that. Um, I think I’d better go get some work done downstairs. Give me about a hour?”

“Sure.”

Delicious smells wafting down from upstairs about forty-five minutes later distracted Aziraphale from his work. Unable to concentrate, he put aside the book catalogue he was going through, flipped the store’s sign to closed as he locked the door and headed upstairs curious about this unknown and certainly a bit out-of-character hobby of Crowley’s. Food always seemed to be something that Crowley considered best delivered to his table while the wait staff made sure to keep him in a steady supply of alcohol, not something to take the time to make himself.

Giving up, he headed upstairs, finding the door to the flat open. He politely knocked anyway. “Hello?”

“If the door’s open you don’t need an invitation to come in.”

In the kitchen Crowley was ladling the main course into two dark grey china bowls with deep red interiors as Aziraphale entered. The table had been set for two, everything in its place but the dishes containing their meal. Looking up from his work, Crowley tilted his head towards the fridge. 

“There’s a bottle of red chilling in there if you don’t mind.”

“Not at all.” Aziraphale fetched it just as Crowley set the food on the table. “Boeuf bourguignon? You can’t cook that in an hour.”

Crowley smirked as his companion slid into his seat. “You can if you cheat. Speeding up the process a bit doesn’t affect the taste, I’ve found.” 

The angel put a bite in his mouth while the demon poured a couple of glasses of wine. “Oh my. This is really good. I mean, really.”

“Just shut up about it and eat.”

So Aziraphale did and had an excellent dinner talking about subjects that didn’t touch on Crowley’s cooking abilities again. He even managed to eat the apple tart without making one compliment.

~*~*~

Hastur stood sheltered by a tree across from the bookshop smoking his second cigarette. Crowley, the coward, had vanished yesterday afternoon to parts unknown until he staked out the bookshop again. The angel never had lights on upstairs in the eastern portion of the building. Tonight there were. Jackpot. There’s where Mr. Slick had gone. 

Pleased he had found his target, Hastur sank down into the ground, returning to Hell.


	2. The Truth About Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _The core of their relationship that had evolved over six thousand years was actually quite simple: Crowley tempted Aziraphale out of his comfort zone so he actually experienced life instead of holing up with only his books for company while Aziraphale was the calm harbour the more emotionally excitable Crowley could shelter in when things started to careen out of control._

“No, not that one. See the bruise?”

Aziraphale peered at the tomato before carefully setting it back in the crate. He was starting to get the hang of this after hopping from farmer’s market to farmer’s market looking for just the right produce to satisfy one picky demon. He picked up another tomato carefully squeezing it to determine if it was too soft or just firm enough before turning it around to inspect every part of it for any blemishes.

“How’s this?” 

“Perfect.” Crowley set it carefully in the bag he was carrying. “That should be all the tomatoes I need for tomorrow. Let’s go pay.”

Squinting in the bright sunshine, his companion scanned the area for any usual activity or other sign of Hastur. So far they had only seen him once at the first stop they had made to buy chicken for the dish Crowley had decided to make tonight. A hard glare from Aziraphale and the beginning hand gesture that indicated he was calling down energy to smite were enough to make him crawl back under whatever unpleasant place he was hiding. 

“I’m thinking maybe grilled asparagus and a radicchio salad. The bitterness will offset the richness of the carbonara.”

Aziraphale could only blink at him. This was Crowley . . . cool, stylish, spent most of his existence drinking his way from the Garden of Eden to his current residence of London like it was some kind of wine tour. Crowley was nightlife. The latest fashion. Cool gadgets. Cooler sunglasses. Snide remarks. Terrified houseplants. A love for that Bentley that bordered on the love one would have for their child. Anything that caught his fancy when it came to his fondness of fast living. Cooking didn’t seem to fall into characterization.

Aziraphale couldn’t help thinking that maybe Crowley was picking it back up again not only as a distraction but a way to indulge him, which the demon had done a quite a few times over the years. Aziraphale was always careful to indulge him back since that seemed to be the way Crowley expressed and understood friendship.

“What?” asked Crowley, oblivious to the thoughts going through Aziraphale’s head. 

“Nothing,” replied Aziraphale, paying for the tomatoes then following Crowley off to find the next vendor. How could he really tell the demon how he felt? He wasn’t sure Crowley even felt the same way back.

They visited other stalls for other ingredients, Crowley giving Aziraphale a bit of instruction now and again on picking good produce and other foods. His willingness to do so seemed to hinge upon whether or not he happened to be feeling safe at the moment. Several times when he felt they were being watched, he became sullen and quiet, just quickly choosing the best produce with the help of his powers and heading off to pay while Aziraphale skimmed the area, searching for signs of any demonic auras. He’d only cheer up again when Aziraphale assured him he found nothing.

They had finished buying some pancetta and a block of parmesan cheese along with some other needed things at a local market when Hastur made a brief appearance in the dairy section before disappearing as soon as Crowley laid eyes on him. He became instantly unnerved upon seeing the leer on Hastur’s face before he vanished. 

“Ready to go home? I think we got everything on the list.” Aziraphale laid a soothing hand on Crowley’s shoulder. “I believe he is just messing with you, my dear. Don’t let him get you all worked up.”

“Home? The bookshop, you mean?” Crowley vanished their purchases back to the kitchen in his replica flat. 

“Of course. It’s your home for as long as you need it.” 

“Oh. Ok.” Crowley stared down at the pavement as if he was unsure what to say about that. “Should I say thanks?”

“No need.”

They climbed into the Bentley. Aziraphale had never before noticed how close together the seats were until this moment. For a fraction of a second, his leg brushed against Crowley’s sending a feeling of excitement at the small unintended touch through his body. He tamped it down, sternly telling himself that wasn’t appropriate while adjusting his body so he took up as little room as possible as far away from Crowley as conceivable in the cramped quarters.

Crowley appeared oblivious to it all. Part of Aziraphale wished he’d noticed and felt the same emotions as the angel did at that accidental brushing of legs.

“Do you need any help with dinner tonight?” he asked as Crowley started the car and recklessly pulled out into traffic.

“Nah – Learn to drive or get off the road! – I can handle it. It’s an easy recipe.” 

A bit disappointed, Aziraphale kept quiet the rest of the way back to the bookshop. 

When they returned, Crowley again took up his station at the window in his lounge watching for Hastur but there was not a thing Aziraphale could do to pull him away from it. Eventually he gave up and said he was heading out to get some dessert to go with the meal. He wasn’t sure Crowley even heard him. He returned a while later with some lemon sorbet that he stuck in Crowley’s freezer, Crowley still standing there in the dim light of the cloudy day looking out that window.

“That’s not helping. You need to keep busy.”

“Doing what? I can only cook so much.”

“You go on and on about the internet to me and how I should check it out. I’m surprised you’re not playing on it now and again,” replied Aziraphale. “We can get out. Feed the ducks. Go for a picnic. Find a film to go see. We don’t have to hole up here. Hastur kept his distance. He’s not up for a smiting.”

Crowley turned from the window. “He’s there, though. And he’s making sure I see him. How long until your presence doesn’t keep him at bay, angel? Then what?”

“Then we deal with it.”

“Oh, but it’s ok if he just mindfucks with me.”

“Crowley . . . you’re giving him exactly what he wants. I doubt he’s going to go against Beelzebub’s orders and outright attack you. But he can split hairs and harass you like this because he’s not actually doing you harm. At least physically.”

“Well there’s nothing like living in Hell to make you paranoid. I’m sorry it’s not the Paradise you seem to think Heaven is.”

Aziraphale had had enough. Irritation creeping into his voice he said, “I’m not having this conversation, Crowley. I can’t risk smiting him unless he becomes a real threat. Now, I’ve got a bookshop to look after.”

Turning on his heel, he stormed out slamming the door behind him. His irritation stayed with him all afternoon so that even when Crowley came down to ask if he was interested in dinner, Aziraphale coolly told him he planned on settling down with some tea and his latest book. 

No delicious smells wafted down from upstairs that evening, nor did he see hide or hair of Crowley all night. He settled in with his book, some classical music on his phonograph and a nice glass of Riesling instead of tea, feeling a rather large amount of guilt for snapping at Crowley. It wasn’t like the whole situation wasn’t stressful for the demon. He decided to apologize to him in the morning after Crowley had some time to cool down.

~*~*~

“Crowley?” Aziraphale knocked on the door. “I bought some scones and made some tea if you’re awake and wanting something. I am sorry about last night, but I have to be careful. I don’t know what I can get away with anymore.”

The door opened. Crowley was standing in his usual place by the window, hands in his pockets.

“Aziraphale, they’re scared stiff of you right now. I didn’t lie when I told you how panicked Gabriel and his band of thugs were. They couldn’t get that stupid demon back up there fast enough to quench the hellfire so they could escort me out of Heaven. You’ll get breathing space, believe me.”

Aziraphale just shrugged noncommittedly.

“Listen, I’ll stop asking if you promise to take him out if he attacks me. Deal?” Crowley held out his hand, turning away from the window. 

Aziraphale came forward into the lounge to clasp it. Warmth radiated from it and the angel wished he didn’t have to let go after shaking it. “Deal. Shall I bring up breakfast?”

“I’ll come down. I’ve sat so much at that table of yours in the backroom I’ve become rather fond of it. It’ll be interesting. I don’t think I’ve bothered to eat breakfast in a few hundred years and the last time I did it was only because I needed an excuse to be the tavern I had to be at for a temptation.”

Once downstairs, Aziraphale poured two cups of tea and set out two plates along with a heaping tray of scones. Crowley grabbed a couple and slathered them with clotted cream and jam.

“Scones are normally eaten at tea, angel,” he commented with a grin. “Not for breakfast.”

“Well, I’m not exactly good at this ‘what food goes with what meal’ business. I usually eat in a restaurant,” replied Aziraphale casually.

“Not complaining. If you want to break out the wine for breakfast, too, I’ll gladly drink it.”

Last night’s argument forgotten, they proceeded to have a rather cheerful breakfast. Afterwards, Aziraphale opened the shop for a bit. Crowley parked himself in an available chair for a while where he spend a good amount of time on his mobile amusing himself with games and other apps. Occasionally he’d show Aziraphale a funny meme but eventually gave up. Explaining pop culture references to someone stuck in the Victorian Age quickly became tiresome.

“You really do need a sense of humor.”

“I have one. It’s just not as childish as yours.”

“Whatever.” And Crowley was back engrossed in his mobile, absent-mindedly swinging the leg he had thrown carelessly over the chair’s arm. 

Aziraphale went back to shelving his new order of first editions with a shake of his head. 

~*~*~

Hastur didn’t know where the duo had gone off to, but this evening the bookstore was dark and empty. Now was his chance. He approached, a hellhound disguised as a Doberman trotting obediently beside him on a leash. He walked it back and forth in front of the door before praising it then sending it back down to Hell. 

Carefully he tested a couple of windows. “Warding spells. I was right. Time to mess with them.”

And mess with them he did. He reached out with his own powers to touch a couple of them – one on a display window, other on the backdoor in the alley behind the shop. He grinned thinking about how much the disturbing of them was going to panic Crowley. This was something that was never going to get old. 

His work done, he followed the hellhound back Downstairs. 

~*~*~

Crowley felt the difference the moment they walked in the door. It had been such a fun getting out to catch a film but that good feeling evaporated as soon as he felt the changes to the wardings.

“That bastard has been here, Aziraphale,” Crowley growled through gritted teeth. “He’s going to hound me for the rest of my life. He brought a hellhound; I could smell it. That might not kill me, but it’ll be an unpleasant way to be discorporated and then I _will_ be at their mercies.”

He paced, running a hand nervously through his fiery hair. Aziraphale stood off to the side, watching helplessly, his coat, which he was going to hang on his coat stand, still slung across his arm. Crowley was quickly working himself into quite the anxious mood. The angel had to do something to calm him and he had no idea what.

Sucking in a breath, he took a moment to hang up his coat before dealing with Crowley. 

“Crowley! For Heaven’s sake, just calm down! What do I keep telling you? This is exactly what Hastur wants.” Aziraphale’s voice was a bit sharper than he intended, but maybe sharp was what Crowley needed because the demon stopped his pacing to glare at him.

“What am I going to do, angel?” Crowley was at the frayed edge of panic, wanting so badly for Hastur to find something more entertaining to do with his time. 

“Keep on living outwardly as if nothing is going on. Don’t hole up in here; you’ve got me to protect you. Don’t spend time hanging around the windows looking for him. Don’t let this bookshop become your prison and don’t let him get to you.”

Surprisingly the demon just nodded.

Aziraphale looked into Crowley’s panicked eyes, just barely visible behind the sunglasses he hadn’t bothered to remove yet. He stepped forward to put a comforting hand on his arm. “I wasn’t there for you all the time during that whole mess leading up to the almost apocalypse, but I am now.”

Crowley wasn’t looking at him during this important and difficult admission almost raising annoyance in Aziraphale until he realized what he was looking at. Aziraphale had once again, although unconsciously this time, put his hand over Crowley’s. He swallowed hard, turned a bright shade of red once again and hastily let go. He backed up a bit as Crowley gave him a puzzled look.

“I . . . I should probably go get more tea. I forgot that we ran out this morning and I’ll probably want some later.”

He fled for the front door, fumbling with the doorknob as his fingers suddenly decided to stop working properly. A hand gently touched him on the shoulder, surprising him so much he whirled around quite violently.

Crowley stood there _sans_ sunglasses, his eyes full of some soft emotion Aziraphale couldn’t quite identify. The demon was all hard edges; soft was something new and the angel did not possess the ability to interpret such a foreign emotion. 

“What’s up, Aziraphale?” 

“Nothing. Everything’s tickety-boo.” And with that, the angel was out the door before Crowley could stop him.

Confused by what just happened, Crowley headed over to the till where Aziraphale kept all his office supplies. Grabbing a sticky note, he wrote _I’ll be upstairs if you want to talk_ on it and stuck it to the cupboard in the kitchenette where Aziraphale kept the tea. He looked out at the bookshelves a slight scowl on his face because he was at loose ends about what to do in this situation.

The core of their relationship that had evolved over six thousand years was actually quite simple: Crowley tempted Aziraphale out of his comfort zone so he actually experienced life instead of holing up with only his books for company while Aziraphale was the calm harbour the more emotionally excitable Crowley could shelter in when things started to careen out of control. They complimented each other perfectly in this sense so the relationship had become extremely symbiotic as it progressed over time. 

Although this time things were not going according to the formula with this situation. Aziraphale was acting all emotional but Crowley was not the type who knew the first thing about being his safe harbour. He was used to simple solutions when it came to Aziraphale needing his help, like the number of times he kept Aziraphale from being harmed or discorporated over the years. It was easy to break him out of the Bastille when he got himself arrested during the Reign of Terror or prevent him from becoming an angry drunk’s punching bag that one time a brawl broke out in a tavern they were drinking at. A few snaps of Crowley’s fingers and Aziraphale was safe.

This was so different. It’s not like he could snap his fingers and make Aziraphale tell him why he was acting so weird.

Crowley headed upstairs determined to figure this out once and for all. For Hea- . . . Hel- . . . _some where’s_ sake, he was the original tempter. If he couldn’t gently manipulate Aziraphale into spilling what was on his mind, nobody could. Time to start playing the game instead of letting this garbage continue and he had a pretty good idea exactly what it was Aziraphale needed to reveal before it ate him alive.

He stared into his fridge determining what ingredients he had, discovering that while he had plenty for dinner, he had little for desserts, but that was no problem. Stores wouldn’t miss one item here or there if he happened to conjure them to himself because he was bereft of something needed. He’d spread his shoplifting around if he needed too many things. Deciding on recipes, he got to work.


	3. Tempting the Angel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“Are you ok?” asked Crowley._
> 
> _“No . . . yes . . . I don’t know!” Aziraphale turned to leave again, but this time Crowley was in the way, standing in the doorway separating the kitchen from the lounge._
> 
> _Crowley, as much as he wanted to just blow up at the angel, forced himself to stay calm. He wasn’t going to get any information out of Aziraphale if he became impatient with him. This whole situation was becoming a real test of his under-developed sense of empathy._

Aziraphale returned about two hours later having purchased more tea than either of them would drink in two months’ time. He hung up his coat before taking the bag full of boxes of every kind of tea imaginable to the kitchen where he found the little yellow note stuck to the cupboard. What he wanted to do most was ignore it.

He jammed the tea testily in the cupboard. Yes, he wanted so badly to talk about it but he couldn’t. He couldn’t face it if Crowley didn’t see things the way he did. The embarrassment would be too much for him to handle. 

Unfortunately for him, Crowley’s work in the kitchen had produced scents that finally made their way downstairs to where Aziraphale stood in his kitchenette debating if he was going to sit in his office with some cocoa and a good book. The book and cocoa were forgotten as soon as that delicious smell hit Aziraphale’s nose.

“Damn you, Crowley,” he paused. “Never mind, that’s not going to work. Been there done that, haven’t you?”

He stood there a moment absurdly wondering of “Bless you, Crowley” would be more appropriate before heading up the spiral staircase to the little flat.

Crowley smiled to himself when he heard the knock on the door. Setting the custard tart on the counter, he went to answer it instead of just wishing the door open like was his usual custom. A bundle of nerves, Aziraphale flashed Crowley one of those anxious smiles he displayed whenever he didn’t want to talk about some particular subject but really needed to.

“Come in. Make yourself at home.” Crowley gestured towards the lounge. 

Aziraphale sat himself rather stiffly on the white leather couch, hands folded with his fingers twitching slightly every once in a while. Whatever he was going to talk about was very much something he’d rather just ignore. The angel was very adapt at pointedly ignoring anything that either he didn’t want to address or didn’t fit neatly into his views. Crowley had prepared every trick he had to pull it out of him.

“Want something to drink?”

“You’re being polite. It’s not usual for you.”

“You are letting me stay in your bookshop, allowed me rearrange the area you gave me how I like, are playing bodyguard and more. I thought maybe I’d tone down the rudeness a little. I kind of got kicked out of Hell so it’s not like I’m a card-carrying demon anymore. I’m not required to be an arsehole these days. Just don’t expect me to give up the sarcasm or become a paragon of niceness, though.”

“I smell roast beef,” Aziraphale replied with a slight smile as if he was afraid to let a full one show. “I assume you have a good Bordeaux on hand?”

“Of course,” Crowley replied. “Everything’s ready if you want to come sit down.”

Comfort food. That’s what Crowley made – roast beef, Yorkshire puddings, potatoes and some vegetables on the side with a custard tart for dessert. Good old English fare. The stuff Aziraphale fell back on when he was feeling anxious, lonely or otherwise down. This was the food they both subsisted on back in the days when English cooking was just evolving and they were fairly new to the island. Even when time passed, other cultures brought their food in and Aziraphale discovered restaurants that offered _haute cuisine_ , traditional English meals always meant familiarity. 

For a moment he hated Crowley for not playing fair because he knew the meal was a way to gently put him in the mood to talk. Then suddenly he loved him even more because he cared enough to want to know what was going on.

A plate heaped with slices of meat and all the trimmings was placed in front of him and Crowley handed him a glass of red Bordeaux of a vintage he appreciated. Crowley sat down across from him and both of them dug in. For a while they ate in silence but it wasn’t awkward like Aziraphale thought it was going to be. It was just . . . nice.

“Allow me to compliment you on this, my dear. I wish I knew you could cook years ago.”

Crowley gave him one of his rare, genuine smiles that contained no traces of ulterior motives behind it. He raised his glass in a toast. “To my good cooking. May I do it more often.”

Aziraphale touched his wine glass to Crowley’s with a laugh. “Such cheek.”

He helped himself to seconds while Crowley refilled the wine glasses. Aziraphale noticed he was being careful not to get either of them drunk. Nor did he touch on any subject that might eventually morph into anything that would make Aziraphale uncomfortable or turn negative. The entire dinner from roast beef to custard tart was of light conversation, laughter and two friends just enjoying each other’s company. Damn that wily old serpent. He was good. Aziraphale was going to have to stay on his toes or he’d end up falling into Crowley’s trap. 

Aziraphale helped Crowley clear the table, taking dishes to the sink where the demon vanished them, clean and dry, back into their places in the sleek grey cupboards. He really wanted more wine, but the bottle had disappeared as well. Crowley was apparently not going to allow him to get anything more than tipsy. 

“Well, washing up’s easy. Now what?” he asked his host.

Crowley just turned towards him, leaning one arm against the sink where he still stood. He casually shrugged. “I don’t know . . . anything you want to do?”

Aziraphale couldn’t stand it anymore. The note. The food. The entire evening carefully curated so that the subject that needed to be addressed wouldn’t come up unless Aziraphale chose to do so. It was all too much. 

He threw his hands in the air, those beautiful blue eyes large with unspoken emotions. “I can’t. I just can’t. You win! I’ll talk about it, but you, for the love of God . . . no that won’t work . . . your Bentley . . . for the love of your Bentley, you can’t get angry with me about it.”

“Ok,” Crowley replied. “I swear on the Bentley that I won’t get upset with you.”

“You sure?”

“We’ve been friends over six thousand years now. Have I ever broken a promise to you?”

“No.”

“I’m not going to start now.”

Aziraphale stood there in that pristine kitchen with its white countertops and grey cupboards feeling like a newly Created, naïve angel who had no idea what to say next. His sky blue eyes filled with tears that threatened to spill over. Mortified, he quickly stared at the floor. It was a very nice tile floor – gray granite and all, but it wasn’t want he really wanted to be looking at.

“Are you ok?” asked Crowley.

“No . . . yes . . . I don’t know!” Aziraphale turned to leave again, but this time Crowley was in the way, standing in the doorway separating the kitchen from the lounge. 

Crowley, as much as he wanted to just blow up at the angel, forced himself to stay calm. He wasn’t going to get any information out of Aziraphale if he became impatient with him. This whole situation was becoming a real test of his under-developed sense of empathy.

“It’s obvious _something_ is bothering you, angel. Now if you could just spit it out, maybe you’d feel better instead of feeling the need to flee every room I happen to be in.”

Crowley stepped in closer; Aziraphale twisted away, refusing to let the demon see how emotional he had become. But his breath betrayed him by catching in his throat with an audible gasp. Crowley noticed and Aziraphale turned a lovely pink.

“The Blitz,” muttered Crowley softly, not sure if it was loud enough for Aziraphale to hear him. He walked into the living and sat on the couch. “Come sit down. Let’s talk.”

Aziraphale felt a sinking feeling as he seated himself in the matching chair next to the couch, the furthest away he could get from Crowley, back ramrod straight, hands folded in his lap. This was one of those times he hated having a human body. Right now he was experiencing an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach that could only be described as negative.

“It started with the Blitz, didn’t it? In that church I blew up to save your body because I had no desire to see my best friend disappear for a decade or two while you filled out bloody paperwork and argued with snotty bureaucrats.” Crowley grinned sheepishly, just a tiny bit. “Besides, I rather liked that body. What if you had come back in something different and decided you liked it better?”

They had the ability to shift their shapes to whatever they pleased. They could take any corporation they were stuck with and make it look however they pleased, except Crowley was cursed with those snake eyes thanks to his work in Eden so no matter what form he took, he would always have those golden yellow snake eyes.

Aziraphale had had his body for six thousand years before it was destroyed when Shadwell backed him into the transportation circle. Crowley had gone through a few in the early years before he figured out a way to put thinned out darkened reading stones on wire frames to hide those snake eyes he was cursed with.

His demonic powers got him out of a lot of trouble when superstitious people became wary of his eyes. He did everything from putting them to sleep, to transporting them elsewhere, to transporting himself elsewhere, to outright breaking out of dungeons before they had a chance to execute him. Yet he still wasn’t always successful. There were times someone managed to stab him in the back or murder him in some other sneaky way, meaning that it would be a few decades before Aziraphale saw that flaming red hair, lanky body and familiar face Crowley favoured. No matter what kind of body he got saddled with, he always shifted it to those preferences. 

“You wouldn’t want me to look any different?” Aziraphale seemed a bit shocked – and flattered – by this. “I’m not much to look at.”

“And I would disagree with that.”

A flush bloomed across Aziraphale’s face and he smiled a small, loving smile at the demon, at a complete loss for words. Instead he stared at his hands.

“Don’t you go silent,” Crowley said softly and gently. “You need to get out everything you’re holding on to. Now start talking. I promised to not get upset over anything you said.”

Closing his eyes for a moment, Aziraphale forced himself to calm down. He took a few deep, cleansing breaths willing the butterflies currently attacking the walls of his stomach to go away and his heart to stop pounding heavily against his ribcage. Neither vanished completely but both tamed down enough that he could work with them. He opened his eyes again to find Crowley waiting uncharacteristically patiently.

“You know, don’t you?”

“Of course I do.”

Aziraphale fairly exploded. “Then why didn’t you say something? Anything? Why did you let me go on all these years like this?”

Crowley looked taken aback. He recoiled slightly from the anger coming off the angel, eyes blinking in surprise. “Because you weren’t ready to acknowledge it yet. You wouldn’t have listened to a word I said and I was afraid to say anything before you were ready for fear of ruining our friendship.”

“I would have forgiven you.” Aziraphale said softly. “You kind of matter to me, you know.”

“I know. It was probably inevitable after all that time. We’ve only really had each other.”

Aziraphale just nodded.

“You matter to me, too. I dogged you throughout history because I so badly wanted you to be my friend. I never really fit in with the other demons and you were receptive to me. It would have been so easy for you to just smite me but you never did.”

“I fell for you because you saved my books.” It came out as a whisper, barely audible even to the demon’s sharp hearing. “I realized how much you cared.”

“I know. And I know you’ve suffered with that knowledge all this time. You have no idea how much I just wanted you to admit it.”

“So now what?”

“We play it by ear?” Crowley suggested. “I don’t know. I’ve never done this before.”

He had taken on lovers before, but he kept his dalliances short-lived and only involving lust. Humans faded and died like blossoms from the point of view of an immortal. It was best to keep love out of it. Aziraphale hadn’t once back in the nineteenth century, resulting in his emotional devastation. It took decades for the angel to piece his soul back together after that.

Aziraphale rose from his chair. “I’m going to have some of that lemon sorbet that was supposed to be the other day’s dessert. Want some?”

“You’re thinking of food at a time like this?” Crowley asked a bit amused.

“I don’t know what else to do!” The angel wailed quietly. He stood there, hands clenched together and twisting, blue eyes filled with uncertainty. 

Crowley stood up and approached him, putting a finger on his lips. “Shhh. You’re going to get yourself all worked up again. Come. Sit down. Maybe watching a film or something will help.”

But Aziraphale didn’t want to watch another film or something. Nor did he really want sorbet. Or cocoa. Or wine. Or a new book to read. What he really wanted was . . . oh dear . . . he couldn’t even think about _that_. But he found out he really didn’t need to think about it if his body was just going to act without his mind’s input anyway. Carefully he pulled Crowley’s finger off his lips and ever so gently licked the tip of it before sticking it into his mouth to suck. 

Surprise registered on Crowley’s handsome face, but he did not pull his hand back. Instead, he kept direct eye contact with Aziraphale as the angel worked on his finger, licking and sucking sensuously before moving on to another one. Biting his lip slightly, Crowley let out a soft moan. His free hand came up to stroke Aziraphale’s blond curls.

But that didn’t last too long before Crowley pulled his hand away from Aziraphale’s mouth and replaced it with his own. He kissed him softly at first, escalating quickly to biting the angel’s lip and exploring with his tongue. He was rewarded with gentle whimpers and fingers pressed so deeply into the back of his neck he was sure they left bruises. Emboldened by this response, Crowley explored further, moving to nibble Aziraphale’s ear then kiss his jawline.

Sucking in a breath, Aziraphale stiffened, hands painfully gripping Crowley’s collarbones and neck. The instinctual response of his hereditary enemy’s teeth so near his throat took over. Crowley paused for a moment.

“You ok?”

Aziraphale managed a chuckle. “Some instincts die hard, I guess. The most primal part of my mind does not like your teeth near my throat. Let’s retrain that reflex, my dear.”

Crowley kissed his way down Aziraphale’s neck until impeded by his collar. Interrupted he came back up, smiling at the angel who had his eyes half-closed in bliss. They opened all the way as he realized Crowley was no longer working along his neck. 

Crowley found himself unceremoniously toppled over on his own expensive couch, Aziraphale directly on top of him. He blinked a bit at the shock of it. Aziraphale? Bold? This was new.

“That’s a bit forward of you.”

“Do you mind?” The question was muffled a little as the angel was already nibbling eagerly at his ear. 

“Not really.” Crowley was already melting under the ministrations. 

Feeling mischievous, he twisted his hips up, pressing a certain hard item into Aziraphale’s thigh. It instantly got the angel’s attention. Those blue eyes widened in a way Crowley found immensely satisfying. He chuckled a bit when he felt Aziraphale rub something very aroused up against his leg in response.

A warm wetness worked its way down his neck as Aziraphale experimented with tasting his skin. Crowley let out a pleased groan, working his slender fingers into those perfect blond curls before scratching his nails along Aziraphale’s scalp. A quick intake of breath told him the angel enjoyed it as much as he did. Maybe more.

Aziraphale was plucking at the buttons on Crowley’s black waistcoat fumbling with it in his excitement to remove it completely. Crowley reached up to grab his hands before he got very far.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to wake up tomorrow morning to find you’ve fled on an extended holiday because you’ve had second thoughts.”

“I won’t.” Those blue eyes looked so serious and so sincere as they held contact with Crowley’s serpentine ones. “I won’t hurt you like that. Never again.”

There was a long pause before Crowley let go of Aziraphale’s hands. The offending waistcoat plus the shirt under it disappeared. “Ok. I trust you.”

Aziraphale gave him a thankful smile before exploring all that exposed flesh with his hands and mouth. Crowley lay there, letting him take the lead as he ate up the touch. Finally he could hold off no more, snaking his hands up Aziraphale’s shirt with the desire to touch bare skin. The angel stiffened a moment then relaxed as Crowley gently stroked one hand on his spine.

“Can I take it off?”

Aziraphale’s eyebrows wrinkled in puzzlement. “You’re not acting in your usual brash manner. When did you get so polite? I don’t mean to be rude asking, but . . .”

“I don’t want to go too far.”

“You won’t.” Aziraphale took care of the shirt himself, vanishing it to somewhere on the floor. “I’m ready. I was just worried you didn’t love me the way I love you.”

Crowley nibbled slowly along the angel’s collarbone. “Are you still?” 

“No.”

“Then let’s go to the bedroom. This couch is giving me fits.”

Aziraphale agreed the bed was a much better place to explore each other’s bodies. That preternaturally long tongue of Crowley’s found a good many erogenous zones while the angel discovered that the demon had more than his share as well. They both took such delight in running fingers over sensitive skin and kissing parts they never thought about before.

Wearing a grin like the cat who got the cream, Crowley kicked things up a notch. Aziraphale gasped as he felt himself invaded by a slim finger just after the demon slyly traced his hand over the angel’s hips and back to his cheek, following the curve it downwards towards other areas. He was teased, prodded and stretched pleasurably, leaving him gasping at what just one single digit could accomplish.

“So,” purred Crowley. “Do you want me to put something larger in there or would you rather this . . .” he grabbed Aziraphale’s erect cock with his free hand. “. . . was inside of me?”

“I want it all, Crowley. Oh, lord just . . .” he was gasping too hard to finish the sentence.

Crowley gave it to him, sliding in gently then trusting carefully as the angel writhed against him, hands clawing at his back. Crowley was so gentle with him, yet at times got a bit rougher as his passion grew before he realized what he was doing and slowed down again. His passionate thrusting seemed to go on forever, making Aziraphale wish that it never needed to end. But the demon could only play nice so long before he had to thrust faster and harder because his body demanded release.

“Oh, angel . . . My lovely Aziraphale . . . Don’t come. Not yet. You can finish in me. Please?”

It was difficult. It was so, so difficult to not give in to the extreme amounts of erotic feelings going on below his waist, inside his soul and in his mind. Crowley came with such loud moans Aziraphale wondered if the buildings surrounding the bookshop were aware what was going in the usually empty second floor flat. But he held on despite the wonderful feelings exploding through him as Crowley finished up, barely allowing the demon time to pull out before he was tackling him, kissing, biting and preparing to return the favour.

He didn’t last, but he didn’t mind one bit. The look of pleasure on Crowley’s face as he rocked his hips in rhythm with Aziraphale’s movements was enough. It was too much. He leaned forward, clamping his teeth down on Crowley’s lower lip as his own climax took him. The demon whimpered in pleasurable pain, long legs wrapped tightly around the angel’s waist.

Worn out, he collapsed on the bed, wrapping his arms around Crowley, who rolled over enough to entangle his limbs with his lover’s. Seeing how swollen Crowley’s bottom lip was he touched a finger to it, intent on healing it.

Crowley brushed his hand away. “Leave it for now. I like that you were aggressive.”

“All right.” Aziraphale snuggled closer, giddy. One thought dominated his mind as he enjoyed the afterglow of what they just did – _he loves me._

They lay there the rest of the night, occasionally stroking and kissing each other until Crowley drifted off to sleep. Aziraphale snuggled against his demon in the dark, listening to him breathe and loving him with all his heart.


	4. Domestic Bliss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley and Aziraphale settle into a routine and Hastur is nowhere to be seen. But Crowley knows he's not going to give up so easily.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a lot of smut going on in this story. I don't know why. It just kind of goes there . . .

Crowley woke up confused that his bed was so warm for a moment before remembering exactly what he and Aziraphale had done last night. He shifted slightly with a yawn to see the angel lying there propped up on pillows reading a book, a leg thrown over Crowley’s.

“You’re warm,” the demon murmured, turning over to lie all over him.

“You make it hard to read,” the angel replied without a hint of rancor. 

Crowley took the book from him, gently tossed it on the nightstand and parted his thighs with a knee. 

“Crowley!” Aziraphale’s protests were short-lived as they turned into little sounds of pleasure. Crowley was currently rubbing sensitive areas very carefully with that well-placed leg of his. 

He grinned at his lover upon getting the response he desired. “There we go . . . That’s what I was looking for.”

Aziraphale’s eyes were completely unfocused, his curly hair becoming mussed as he arched his back, pushing his head into the softness of the pillows. Crowley kept up his rubbing, his own cock becoming hard against Aziraphale’s thigh. He placed light, teasing kisses on the angel’s mouth delighting when Aziraphale reached out, begging for more. 

“Oh, I don’t know, angel. You made quite the mess of my lip last night,” he teased.

That fiery red head disappeared under the bedsheets and Aziraphale felt a hot wetness clamp on to his cock with a fierce gentleness. He could feel that tongue snake its way over and nearly all the way around it, leaving no place of it untouched as it wound one direction, then the other to get full coverage. Then the sucking started, causing sensations in Aziraphale he could not begin to describe. His head swimming, it was all he could do to keep from coming right then and there in Crowley’s mouth. Before Crowley knew what was even happening, Aziraphale had grabbed a handful of his hair and yanked his entire body upwards to fasten his lips on the demon’s. 

Crowley worked himself into a sitting position to keep himself from losing his balance so he didn’t end up pitching forward and cracking his head against Aziraphale’s. The angel noticed he was perfectly placed over his hips, deciding to take advantage of that. With a thrust, he invaded his lover, watching those serpentine eyes go wide with surprise as he did. His hand wrapped around Crowley’s cock, working it gently as other parts worked in time inside the tight warmth of Crowley’s body. He lost track of time as they made love; a minute could have passed or an eternity. It did not matter as long as Crowley enjoyed his physical displays of adoration.

“You are gorgeous,” he murmured to the sweat-covered demon whose face reflected the ecstasy he was feeling right now. He wasn’t sure Crowley was in a place where he could even hear him, but he spoke anyway. “Absolutely gorgeous. Finish for me.” He couldn’t quite yet bring himself to use that . . . other word . . . despite the complete irony of lying here in bed making love to a being who was supposed to be the Enemy.

He thrust harder in case Crowley was beyond physical senses, as the glassy yellow eyes seemed to indicate. His hand pulled more insistently on Crowley’s cock until at last it was covered in wetness. He didn’t last much longer, releasing his orgasm into Crowley who shivered in response.

Sleek, shiny black wings manifested in response to the intense lovemaking session, stretching across the room. Crowley rocked there a minute or two, wings beating impossibly in a space that was too small for such an activity. Ignoring them, he snapped out of his trance and lay down on Aziraphale in a pile of hot skin, soft feathers, sweat and other sources of dampness that disappeared the moment his skin touched Aziraphale’s. His chest heaved in rhythm with the angel’s.

“What the hell? We don’t need to even breathe,” he panted.

“Shhh, don’t worry about it, my dear.”

“What I’m worried about is you becoming insatiable. I may be a supernatural being, but there’s only so much of that I can take at a time.” He flopped on to his stomach beside Aziraphale, his extended wings draped over the sides of the bed and across the floor to the point they nearly touched the walls. 

Aziraphale reached over to scratch between them, causing Crowley to wiggle. 

“Will you stop that? Let me rest a while, angel, or I just might discorporate from sheer pleasure.”

Aziraphale just lay there beside him stroking those beautifully groomed black wings, carefully straightening out the odd feather that was knocked out of place when Crowley flopped ungracefully on to the mattress. “Sorry, darling. I’m just so happy.”

“So’m I,” Crowley’s reply was muffled by the pillow he buried his face in. “But we’re going to have to learn to pace ourselves. Oh, that feels so blasted _good_. You could do that for the next hour or so.”

“I don’t get to see your wings much.”

“You saw them at the airbase.”

“And before that, I think I last saw them when you were skinny dipping in the Dead Sea after the Crucifixion.”

“Easier to covertly use them back then. Nowadays some idiot with a phone in a plane would be taking video or radar would pick us up even if we were invisible. And I remember having them out in Paris on the roof of Notre Dame after I broke you out of the Bastille.”

“Oh, that’s right.”

“Fine. I’ll manifest them for you every once in a while, just let me sleep. You wore me out again.” Crowley turned his head enough to glare at him with one eye. “The things I do to indulge you.”

“Thank you, my dear.” Aziraphale was all smiles as he slid down to lay flat on the bed, his body covered from chest to thigh by the soft feathers of Crowley’s wing. If there was room, he would have manifested his own to wrap around Crowley.

~*~*~

Hastur wondered what they were doing in there, if they were in there at all. He had seen no sign of life at the bookshop in almost three days. The angel hadn’t bothered to open it nor did they leave for lunch or a bit of shopping. No movement was apparent in the windows which were dark at night as well.

He looked at his watch. Time to go. He had a train to catch to somewhere in Wales where some tempting needed to be done. He hated having to go on minor missions like this. But Hell was minus its field agent and wary about posting another up here lest they go native, too. It was up to the rest of them to take turns making sure the work got done until the higher ups decided what was going to be done about tempting on Earth.

Throwing the dog-end of the cigarette he’d been smoking on the ground, he stalked off towards the train station. Crowley could wait a few days. Maybe his absence would flush the exiled demon out of wherever he was hiding.

~*~*~

“How do you like your eggs?” Crowley called from the kitchen as Aziraphale took a shower.

He didn’t bathe often, preferring to just miracle himself clean, but sometimes it was refreshing to stand under the showerhead and let warm water run over his body. He soaped up his blond curls with a sweet-smelling shampoo enjoying the soothing feeling of it all – scent and self-massage. Idly he pondered how wonderful it would feel to have Crowley working the lather through his hair with those long fingers of his.

“Eggs? Oh, whatever you want to make, my dear. You know I’ll eat it,” he called back.

“Just choose!”

“Over easy!” 

Humming something tuneless, Aziraphale emerged from the bathroom dried and dressed. Crowley was running around the kitchen in little more than a black t-shirt and boxer shorts, fiery locks untidy, looking more appetizing than the food. Aziraphale wrapped his arms around the demon’s waist, reaching in to kiss his cheek. Crowley smiled at him as he handed him a plate of eggs and toast. 

“Morning,” he said. “So, what are we doing today?”

“Suddenly you’re eager to get out.”

“I’m bored.” Crowley sat down with a cup of coffee and nothing else. He put two spoonfuls of sugar in it before reaching for the cream. “And the blackout spells on the windows must be working. We haven’t seen hide or hair of Hastur in like three or four days.”

“We do need more wine. And you’re probably running low on ingredients. I’m growing rather fond of your cooking.” Aziraphale blushed a bit as he dug into his breakfast. “You’re not having any?”

“I never was a breakfast person, remember?” Crowley took a few sips from his mug. “But whatever you want, I’ll make it for you.”

“You . . . you don’t have to.” Aziraphale stammered, blue eyes shining with affection.

“I enjoy it. Now shut up and eat.”

So Aziraphale did while Crowley sipped his coffee and contentedly watched Aziraphale enjoy the breakfast he cooked.

Dishes miracled away, they sat out in the bookshop planning the day beyond the shopping that needed to get done. Crowley sat on the couch in Aziraphale’s office while Aziraphale sat as his desk getting a bit of work done. 

“It’s been a while since we’ve been to St. James’,” Aziraphale commented while scribbling out something to do with expenses. “And I know you’ve always enjoyed antiquing as much as you want to hide that fact.”

“Yes, well . . . sometimes I do enjoy taking a walk down memory lane. And checking out antique shops means you can look for more of those blasted snuffboxes of yours.” Crowley replied. “We could go clothes shopping and find you something modern to wear instead of a one-hundred-and-eighty-year-old coat.”

“I like my coat just fine, thanks.”

“You just roll down the hill of time and accumulate things don’t you? An almost two-hundred-year-old coat, a hundred-year-old waistcoat and a fifty-year-old bowtie.”

“And you shed your style every few years like a snake sheds its skin,” countered Aziraphale, not even bothering to look up from filing a few slips of important paper in one of his desk drawers.

Crowley ignored that remark. “Art museum?”

“That’s tempting.”

“That’s the point.”

“You know, it’s been a while since we’ve gone to concerts and the like. We should do that again.” Crowley was on his mobile again, flipping through whatever had caught his attention on the internet.

Aziraphale smiled up at him, laying down his fountain pen. “I would like that. Maybe the opera?”

Crowley grimaced at that suggestion. “Only if we get a private box. That way I can play around on my mobile while you listen to that screeching. Let’s go. It’s late enough the wine shops are open.”

A short, stressful (for Aziraphale, anyway) drive later, Crowley pulled the Bentley up to the curb near their favourite wine shop. The angel was out looking around for signs of Hastur before Crowley had a chance to kill the ignition. He nodded and the demon got out. 

“Hopefully that bastard doesn’t decide to ruin our day,” Crowley muttered, adjusting his expensive glasses.

“Don’t let him, my dear.” Aziraphale planted a kiss on his cheek. Crowley returned the affection by snaking his arm around the angel and giving him a squeeze.

An hour later, after Aziraphale dithered over the incredible selection of wines the store offered, they walked out with their purchases. He was the more knowledgeable one about wine and Crowley was more than happy to let him peruse the shelves to his heart’s content. He could plan dinners around Aziraphale’s wine choices. In fact, a few of them would present him with a much-needed challenge, matching them to meals and desserts.

“That should last us a couple of weeks or so.” Aziraphale snapped his fingers and the wine vanished to the bookshop. 

“Ok, now what?”

“Want to teach me more about shopping for produce?”

So Crowley did and Aziraphale was getting quite good at it. One more trip or so and Crowley thought Aziraphale might be able to do it by himself if needs be. This time, they purchased about a few week’s worth of ingredients given that nothing placed into Crowley’s fridge would ever dare to rot. The demon would not have it. 

They bought some pastries to finish up their time at the food market and found a convenient bench to sit at while they ate them. The crowds passing by were rather uneventful; no Hastur appeared anywhere. Did he finally give up, Aziraphale wondered.

“Doubtful. He’s like a bulldog when he gets something into his tiny, little mind,” said Crowley, brushing crumbs off his skinny jeans. “Never lets go. He probably has some work to do. I expect him back in a week or less.”

“You seem less concerned,” observed Aziraphale.

“Maybe I am. Maybe because I’m not doing this alone.”

The angel very nearly melted upon hearing that, wanting to kiss the demon all over. Crowley noticed and shot him an amused look.

“Lock it down, angel. This is the last place you want to start radiating angelic love. You’ll affect a lot of people and I’ll be really embarrassed. Please don’t embarrass me.” Crowley looked over his shoulder at a convenient alcove between buildings. “Buuuut, you could kiss me over there where we could hide.”

Crowley was unaware his angel could move so fast and quickly found himself enjoying a snog hidden away in an nook further made invisible by ethereal magic. If there had been enough room it probably would evolved into something even more passionate. They returned to view on the street with mussed hair and lips reddened from passionate kissing.

“So, art museum?” asked Aziraphale breathlessly.

It wasn’t long before they found themselves standing at Tate Britain in front of the current Van Gogh exhibit staring at _Starry Night Over the Rhone_ , Crowley behind Aziraphale with his arms wrapped around the angel.

“Did you ever meet him?” he asked.

“Vincent?” asked Aziraphale. “Once. When he lived in London. Brilliant. Absolutely brilliant. He was so depressed to be in London but he took such inspiration from it. How about you?”

“I said hello to him in a café in France once. I wish I had known what a talented artist he was at the time,” Crowley replied, covertly nibbling his angel’s ear. “I would have bought one of his paintings.”

“Should you be doing that in an art museum of all places?” Aziraphale asked even though his tone didn’t seem to give off any hint of disapproval.

“I’ve arranged it so I could take you right here and now but all the humans would register is two guys looking at a painting,” Crowley replied in low tones. 

“Don’t tempt me.”

Crowley blew gently in his ear. “Don’t you think you’re saying that to the wrong person?”

With all the strength he could muster, Aziraphale pulled away from Crowley and moved on to the next painting. “Later, my dear. Once my lust was abated, I’d be horrified by the memory of having sex out in the open even if disguised. And weren’t you complaining earlier about pacing ourselves?”

Crowley took his hand. “I can wait. I just wanted to see how far you’d go.”

That comment earned him a smack on the arm. “Lustful serpent.”

“I could steal a painting and the museum wouldn’t be the wiser.”

“But you’re not going to, are you?”

“Not with you around. C’mon, let’s see what’s in the other rooms.”

Aziraphale willingly let him lead him further into the exhibit, knowing that Crowley was teasing. He liked to buy art directly from the artist. It was a source of pride to know he was the only one who ever owned a particular piece. Acquiring one, in any manner, that had been previously owned would hold no interest for Crowley. 

“You’ve taken to the change in our relationship like a fish to water,” Aziraphale commented to him as they examined a self-portrait of Van Gogh. “Are you really ok with things? Are we rushing it?”

“Yes, I’m ok with the change and no, we’re not rushing considering this thing’s been on slow burn for so many years. Why would you ask such a thing? You’re not the only one who fell in love,” Crowley replied. “Why do you think I wanted you to run away with me to Alpha Centauri? Why I didn’t go after I thought you were dead? I didn’t want to go on without you. Better to get drunk in a bar and just wait for the world to end. And quit making me admit such things. I’m a demon. We’re not good with sappy feelings.”

They moved on, finishing up at the museum then deciding to head to the Ritz for dinner. It seemed an awful lot like a first date despite them frequenting the restaurant forever and the recent bedroom activities. 

“Can’t I ever finish a dessert in peace?” Crowley eyed Aziraphale as he swiped yet another bite of Crowley’s cake. 

“It’s not like you ever finish it anyway and this food’s too expensive to let go to waste.”

“Whatever. Make all the excuses you like. It’s no wonder I’m so thin.”

Aziraphale snorted. “Don’t give me that. You’re thin and wiry because you were once a snake, my dear.” He lowered his voice. “And that’s not an insult. The things I’m learning you can do with that tongue . . .”

Crowley raised his champagne glass to his lips with a sly smile. “You don’t know the half of it,” he purred seductively in reply, pleased to see Aziraphale turn an exquisite shade of pink in response. “So, where’s that waitress with our check?”

  


  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _“And before that, I think I last saw them when you were skinny dipping in the Dead Sea after the Crucifixion.”_
> 
> _“. . . And I remember having them out in Paris on the roof of Notre Dame after I broke you out of the Bastille."_
> 
> Lol, I got a little pretentious and tied this story to my Cold Openings Fiction series. I've only published up through Arthurian England, so there's a little hint about the Reign of Terror one there. 😉


	5. Spells and Strange Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“Where am I?” he demanded of Aziraphale._
> 
> _“I . . . I don’t know,” the angel stammered, not sure himself._
> 
> _“You’re Crowley’s angel. Hey! Come back! Don’t bloody leave me here!”_
> 
> _Aziraphale had turned tail and started to run the moment the demon stated he was Crowley’s angel. The thought of Hell knowing that was terrifying in and of itself. What could or would they do with such knowledge given half the chance and knowing what he knew now of Hastur’s tactics?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for a bit of non-graphic violence towards an LBGT+ character.

A week later, Crowley agreed to take a package containing a book of prophecy across town to one of Aziraphale’s fellow collectors. He was feeling confident, having not seen Hastur in almost two weeks. Maybe he got called on the carpet for his behavior. After all, Aziraphale had threateningly said it would be in everyone’s best interest if Crowley was just left alone when he was down in Hell masquerading as his lover and it seemed they had taken him at face value. 

It took him no time at all to get to the woman’s own bookshop given how he drove his beloved Bentley. She ran a shop that specialized in children’s book, both new and used. The rare edition she had Aziraphale help hunt down was for her husband who loved antique books. It was going to make quite an anniversary gift.

Crowley did not feel at all at home in the cheerful store full of bright colors and happy music. But it got him out of the shop for a spell while Aziraphale got some work done in peace. She spoke of how long she and her husband had been together. Thirty years married might have been an accomplishment for a human couple, but it was barely yesterday for Crowley. When he thought about it, he had had a relationship of one kind or another with Aziraphale for the last six thousand years. _Top that, human._

He should have been paying more attention to what went on outside. He hadn’t bothered to try to hide the Bentley. The unique looking antique car sat by the curb on the busy street visible to everyone who happened to pass by. Unfortunately for Crowley, one of those who passed by was Hastur, freshly back from his mission, which had taken longer that it should have, and walking away from the station he had just exited. 

A nasty smile that spelled trouble for Crowley crossed Hastur’s face. The Duke of Hell had received a couple of reports about Crowley and his angel from a lesser denizen of Hell who rather enjoyed spending time in London, given he was human in a former life. A recent acquisition, in fact. The lad unfortunately sold his soul in exchange for wealth only to die a few years later at the ripe old age of twenty-six in a particularly nasty car accident. Such souls made great disposable demons. They could be sent on really treacherous missions and if they got destroyed, oh well. The Legions of the Damned didn’t need to heal up some true demon’s infernal spirit and fetch them a new body if a lesser creature of Hell was used. Bodies took time and expense. There was always a surplus of humans wanting to make deals with the devil.

Crowley had well and truly hooked up with that angel. To the point they’d been spotted by the lad engaging in public displays of affection around town. Not a smart move, thought Hastur. Homophobia was on the rise around these parts. It was going to be even more on the rise as soon as Hastur got done with things.

It was unfair. Why should Crowley come out smelling like roses while Hastur continued to have shitty day after shitty day? He and Ligur had a bond. It was an asexual bond, but still it was a deep, abiding friendship that made life in Hell worth living. Crowley had taken that away when he destroyed Ligur’s spirit with that bucket of holy water. That worthless piece of filth deserved to die for that. But it seems that wish wouldn’t come true. He’d have to settle for some serious damage instead.

He placed the spell carefully around the Bentley, weaving it in and out in fine layers of power that would be unnoticeable unless one was pay really close attention to what was going on. Hastur was placing all his hope on Crowley having his guard down. If it worked, he’d find himself attacked by any human in the area who had prejudicial thoughts against LGBT+ people. The exiled demon would become London’s latest statistic even if a beating wouldn’t kill him.

It was only what he deserved for flaunting his relationship after destroying other’s. Hastur returned to Hell, satisfied.

A while later, Crowley touched the Bentley’s door handle, recoiling as soon as he felt something was not right, but he was too late. The spell was triggered. Standing there trying to unravel it enough to figure out what the spell actually did, Crowley didn’t expect to get homophobic slurs yelled at him as a couple of men threateningly approached him while a woman shot him looks of pure hatred in the background.

“What’s up?” he asked, trying to keep his tone light despite the tenseness of the entire situation.

“I’ve seen you out and about before with that blond-haired boyfriend of yours. We don’t need more fags around here showing off, holding hands and kissing in public. It’s disgusting. Keep that shit private.”

The other man’s mouth curled up in a sneer of loathing, his fist rising in a threatening manner that did not make Crowley feel at all comfortable in this situation. The man got a punch in, hitting Crowley square in the cheek, dropping him like a rock. Dazed, he struggled to get to his feet as the two men attacked him in tandem, making it all but impossible to immediately respond to the fists slamming into him.

Collecting his thoughts, he made them both disappear, not knowing or caring where he had sent them. Those watching, either of out interest or horror, gazed upon him as if one person, wondering what had just happened. With a snap of his fingers, they forgot why they were even looking at the man-shaped being staggering to stand up beside the vintage Bentley and went about their business with nothing more than a bit of mild puzzlement.

Unsteadily Crowley got into the Bentley and let it drive him home while he collected himself. That spell was Hastur’s. He would put money on it. And it hit home in more than one way. Gender didn’t matter to Crowley. He technically didn’t have one, nor did he care about other people’s. He’d bedded all types in his many years on Earth. Aziraphale metaphorically loved everyone, but he was an angel. On the rare occasion he took a lover, it was always someone who identified or presented as male. Hastur just used humans to mock both their sexualities. It wasn’t just Crowley he was after anymore. It was anything Crowley stood for, anyone Crowley loved. This went well beyond personal and hit straight at his heart. The demon seethed in his anger.

It was a good thing he wasn’t actually driving he was shaking so badly right now. Hastur was not going to leave him alone. He couldn’t let his guard down ever. This was Hell in the truest sense of the word. He was not going to escape Hastur until either Hastur decided to give up or Aziraphale took care of the problem once and for all with a smiting that kept Hastur from ever wanting to set foot in London ever again. 

If only that holy water had hit both of those clowns instead of just Ligur.

Aziraphale looked up at Crowley’s entrance, instantly alarmed. “My dear boy, what happened to you?” 

He was at Crowley’s side, examining the bruise spreading across one side of his face as the demon growled, “Hastur. I can’t go out alone, angel. Not ever again as long as Hastur’s running around free. I’m stuck. He’s turned Earth into Hell. And it’s you in danger now, too. He’ll come after you to get to me. What are we going to do?”

Aziraphale pulled him in for a hug, healing the bruise on his well-defined cheekbone and the others he found elsewhere on his body as he sensed them. Stroking that red hair, he tried his best to calm Crowley. “We’ll do what we have to. I’m sorry. I should have listened to you because my plan of ignoring him is obviously not going to work.” He disengaged from Crowley to shake a finger at him. “You had better not say that you told me so or I won’t help you.”

That earned him a small smile from his love. “Going to smite his arse for me?”

“Language, my dear.” The angel planted a kiss on the demon’s nose. “We’re going to think of something. Both of us together.”

“Sounds good,” murmured Crowley. “But right now I’d just like to spoon in bed with you for a bit while wearing as little clothing as possible.”

“I think I can arrange for that.” 

The sign on the front door flipped itself to “Closed” while the dead bolt clicked into place as Aziraphale started towards the spiral staircase with Crowley right behind him. Mere minutes later he found himself in bed with his demon wrapped around him like a boa constrictor, a pile of clothes leading from the lounge to the bedroom, lighter coloured articles mingled with darker coloured ones.

“So,” Crowley’s voice was muffled as his face was half-buried in Aziraphale’s collarbone. “You want dinner tonight or are we never leaving this bed again?”

“Not hungry,” the reply was surprisingly drowsy. “Tired. Might try sleep.”

“Wow, those are words I never thought I’d hear out of your mouth.”

“Hush. Can’t try it if you’re going to keep talking.” Aziraphale’s hand came up to stroke Crowley’s fiery hair in a soothing manner. He had learned over the past few weeks that running his fingers through the demon’s hair was a great way to relax him, especially when he was nervous over Hastur’s stalking. Right now he decided he’d try it to see if it worked to lull the demon into falling asleep. 

He didn’t find out if that experiment worked or not; Crowley stayed awake, falling silent under his ministrations, but Aziraphale drifted off to sleep for the first time ever.

~*~*~

He knew of dreams. Crowley had described them in great detail and he had also heard stories of them from the rare human he dared to befriend over the long years. It wasn’t what he expected at all nor did he think they would be both so realistic and so surreal. 

He dreamed of walking in a blank yet foggy area of a dark grey shade. Light came from an unknown source. His footsteps echoed on the hard surface that made up the ground in this world. Standing before him was a demon in a dark leather-like trench coat that appeared to have seen better days with a tattered black scarf tucked into it. He wore fingerless black gloves and seemed to have some reptile on his head but Aziraphale was at a loss to what it was in the thick fog surrounding them.

“Where am I?” he demanded of Aziraphale.

“I . . . I don’t know,” the angel stammered, not sure himself.

“You’re Crowley’s angel. Hey! Come back! Don’t bloody leave me here!”

Aziraphale had turned tail and started to run the moment the demon stated he was Crowley’s angel. The thought of Hell knowing that was terrifying in and of itself. What could or would they do with such knowledge given half the chance and knowing what he knew now of Hastur’s tactics? Hastur had at least figured out he and Crowley were friends during his time spent in Crowley’s voicemail. Did all of Hell know now?

Aziraphale continued to run through the bleak misty scene until a familiar voice told him everything was going to be all right and a reassuring hand stroked his curly blond hair which appeared to exist on a separate body of his – one lying horizontal outside the dark, grey world. He calmed down, the scene fading into oblivion.

The next time he dreamed it was a rather pleasant experience, making him forget about the first one until he awoke.

~*~*~

“I wouldn’t be surprised if Hastur knew we’re more than friends since he’s been stalking me,” Crowley said as he put a plate of salad in front of Aziraphale then another in his spot. They were both a bit peckish after their nap so Crowley threw together a quick meal of pasta with marinara sauce and a salad for dinner.

Aziraphale had just described his dream to him. “But that doesn’t explain anything about it. Hastur wasn’t the one in it. It was some other demon I’ve never seen.”

“Aziraphale, it’s just a dream. Don’t put too much thought into it. You probably suspected Hastur knew after he had humans attack me yesterday.” Crowley paused. “Wait . . . earlier today. It just bled over in to your dream. That’s all. You’re in a human body, angel. It’s going to act human if you let it and dreams pull stuff from your life.”

Aziraphale poked at his dinner. What Crowley said was rather disconcerting. He was an angel, not a human. He loved humanity, loved his life on Earth as well, but he really didn’t want to be human. He was quite happy being an angel. The perks were nice.

“I’d rather not be human. They’re nice and all, but I’m used to what I am.”

Crowley laughed. “Yet you sit here enjoying the pleasures of this Earth an awful lot. I love your idiosyncrasies, angel.” 

“You should talk.”

“I realize that I can enjoy the pleasures of Earth and still not be human. Angel, live a little. We don’t need this stuff – tomorrow we could stop eating, drinking, sleeping, even breathing if we really wanted to. But life here would be a lot less fun without most of it.”

Aziraphale held up his wine glass. “Cheers to that.”

“So, what do we do about Hastur?” Crowley asked after they toasted and had a drink of wine. “I’ve been thinking and come up with nothing.”

“Me, neither. Other than smiting him hard enough that he’ll never show his face around us for a long time.”

“I was hoping at this point you’d want to just bless some holy water and toss it on him.”

“No.”

“You’re no fun.”

“You seem to think I’m plenty of fun in bed, my dear.”

“Touché.” Crowley raised his glass and drank to that remark. 

Aziraphale rose from his chair and took it upon himself to clear away the dishes and get the cheesecake he bought several days ago out of the fridge. Bringing it back to the table with clean plates, he served up two pieces then sat back down.

“Cheesecake with pasta?” asked Crowley. 

“I just felt like eating it,” Aziraphale said a bit defiantly. “You become a chef and suddenly you’re some kind of food snob.”

“Ok, ok. I was just asking a question.”

Aziraphale paused a moment after taking his first bite, his fork slicing halfway through the next bit of cheesecake. “Crowley? What did Ligur look like?”

The demon shrugged. “I don’t know . . . short, black hair . . . dark complexion . . . wore a ratty black scarf, I think his coat was leather or something. Kind of brown, maybe, but who can tell? I swear nobody Down There knows what dry cleaning is. His eyes changed color with that stupid chameleon on his head.”

Aziraphale paled visibly. Crowley immediately noticed. 

“What’s wrong?”

“He was the one in my dream. Crowley, I never encountered him. How would I know what he looks like? That was more than a dream, wasn’t it?”

“Well, that’s great. Adam Young just may have well brought Ligur back when he reset the world, but did a half-assed job at it,” Crowley replied in seriously sardonic tones. “Is he running around like he’s discorporated or something?”

“I don’t know. I was just kind of nowhere . . . I could hear you when I contacted you, but I couldn’t see anything. And I don’t know if I could have entered your dreams, to be honest. I’d be afraid to try. If I might have made your body explode by possessing it, I’d be wary of trying to tinker around with dreams or anything.” Aziraphale’s voice sounded distant as he spoke as if he was discussing something that happened years ago rather than just recently. “Maybe he’s something else. And it didn’t seem like he was deliberately in my dream. He wanted to get out of there as badly as I did.”

He took another bite of cheesecake in an attempt to get back to more normal subjects than the mystery of Ligur. Dinner should not include discussion of strange demonic apparitions. Crowley picked at his in thought before going back to enjoying it. Aziraphale wanted to be over it for now, but the very real demon sitting at the table with him seemed to be turning the whole conversation around in his head.

“A penny for your thoughts?”

“Mine are a quid each.”

“Hilarious, Crowley. Honestly, what are you thinking right now?”

Crowley set down his fork. “I don’t know . . . This is all so weird. I’m worried, angel. I’m worried about your safety, my sanity, what Ligur is and if I’m going to have a showdown with Hastur before this is all over.”

Aziraphale reached across the table and took Crowley’s hand. “Whatever happens, you won’t be doing it alone, my love.”

But the angel worried, too. Hastur was a formidable enemy and Aziraphale hoped that they would somehow be able to end this without it coming to blows – magical or otherwise.


	6. Researching Resurrection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“What do you want?” Hastur leaned against the tree, his arms crossed._
> 
> _“I said what I wanted, my dear fellow.”_
> 
> _Hastur chuckled. “That’s cute because I’m not leaving.”_
> 
> _“Even if it could get you Ligur back?” asked the angel with a slightly triumphant smile on his face._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a sex scene of light humiliation in here. I try to keep my BDSM and D/s stuff mild in stories not dedicated to it (if it shows up at all), but if you're not comfortable reading such things, read through the part where Aziraphale meets with Hastur at the beginning, then when he and Crowley start to flirt, skip to "Outside, Hastur could feel . . ."
> 
> You won't lose any plot skipping over some sex. I promise. :)

Hastur was surprised one sunny day when he was lurking outside the bookshop, invisible to all but other immortals, by the angel exiting the premises and approaching him under his tree across the street. Throwing his cigarette on the ground, where quite a few of them had accumulated, he smirked at Crowley’s lover who returned it with a hard look that seemed out of character for him.

“I would think you would get bored out here day after day,” the angel said conversationally. “And I wonder what your superiors think about you shirking your duties to chase after someone who’s off limits.”

“I get my work done. They don’t complain,” Hastur replied. “So, where’s lover boy?”

The angel ignored his question. “I want you to go back to Hell and stay there.”

“Like you have any say in what I do, Principality. I could overpower you so easily,” the Duke of Hell sneered.

“And I could smite you where you stand since even a mere Principality like myself has enough power to send your spirit back Downstairs. The Almighty did not leave me without protections.”

“What do you want?” Hastur leaned against the tree, his arms crossed.

“I said what I wanted, my dear fellow.”

Hastur chuckled. “That’s cute because I’m not leaving.”

“Even if it could get you Ligur back?” asked the angel with a slightly triumphant smile on his face.

“Impossible.”

“But it might not be. I’ve been having . . .” the angel paused as if choosing his words carefully, “. . . visions, you might say, of Ligur. Now mind you, I’ve never crossed paths with him, but the description of the demon in my visions matched the description of Ligur Crowley gave me when we were discussing it.”

“So?”

“It’s possible that the Antichrist might have brought him back when he reset the world, but not completely. We believe he’s a kind of spirit. Discorporated in a way. What if we could find a way to get him out of my visions and back into the world? Would you leave us alone forever?”

Hastur laughed. “That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard . . . stuck in some kind of limbo like that.” 

“What do you have to lose?”

“Fine. I swear I’ll leave you and your traitorous, murdering boyfriend alone if you can present me with Ligur.”

“Do you swear on the River Styx?”

“That’s an unbreakable promise, Principality.”

The angel smirked, an expression that made his face look almost as hard as a demon’s. Crowley’s pansy of a boyfriend was learning to get tough. “I know. Do you?”

“Sure. I swear on the River Styx I won’t stalk or harm that traitor Crowley or you, Aziraphale, if that’s your name, if you get Ligur back.” Hastur laughed as he got out another cigarette and lit it off his finger. “This is rich.”

But the angel did not seem to notice the taunting. “How about harm by proxy? I’m not stupid, Hastur. You’re not going to send others after us.”

“Ok. I swear on the River Styx that I will not stalk, harm, try to harm, do anything negative to Crowley or you, Aziraphale, by my own hand or by proxy. Is that better?”

“Your promise has been duly noted. It’s binding now. We’ll be in touch when we have information.”

The conversation now at an end, the angel headed back across the street to his bookshop, Hastur’s laughter following him.

“You know, the promise only works if witnessed by another demon!” Hastur called after him.

Crowley smiled in a self-satisfied way as he pulled open the door to the bookshop and entered. Aziraphale, busy at the till frittering time away with a bit of work, looked up at him. 

“It is so weird to stare at your own face.”

“I know, my dear.”

The demon brightened for a moment, putting a very Crowley look on Aziraphale’s face. “Let’s have sex like this. What do you say?”

“No!” Aziraphale held out his hand and with a mock disappointed groan, Crowley grasped it, allowing his spirit to travel back into the familiar vessel he’d occupied since the early triple digits, Common Era.

“I’ve never seen myself naked in that way before. I’m curious.”

“Did it work?” asked Aziraphale, ignoring Crowley’s comment about viewing his own naked body from outside of it as he ran a hand through his curls then straightened his bowtie.

“Like a charm. Now if we can figure out what Ligur is and get him into the physical world if he’s real.” The demon walked behind the counter to grab his angel by the waist. “What do you say we still have a little fun? My own suggestion got me in the mood.”

Aziraphale found himself being pushed into the recesses of the backroom by one suddenly eager demon. “Crowley! The door’s not locked!”

Crowley waved a hand; the roller blinds came down, the lock clicked into place and the open sign flipped itself over. “Done. Now, where was I? Oh yes, showing a certain angel a good time.”

He grabbed the only slightly protesting angel’s hair, twining his fingers deeply into it as he seductively planted kisses on Aziraphale’s lips. Grinning, he tightened his grip so Aziraphale could neither move his head nor dodge Crowley’s affections. Those beautiful sky blue eyes closed in pleasure as he felt every single encounter between Crowley’s lips and his own. His own hands wandered as much as they could over the demon’s body, delighting in how responsive he was to the touch.

“You ok with this?” asked Crowley softly, his lips brushing Aziraphale’s soft neck as he spoke.

“Yes. I’ll let you know when it’s too much.”

Crowley parted Aziraphale’s lips with his tongue, eagerly thrusting it in to explore, but Aziraphale didn’t stay passive for long and soon he was doing exploring of his own until Crowley softly bit down on his tongue. Feeling fuzzy-headed from the passion, it took him a moment to realize what had happened, then he heard Crowley’s throaty laugh. A rush of pleasure came from the feeling of those demonic teeth pinning his tongue in place. He wiggled it a bit only to have Crowley bite harder and start to slowly suck on it. The angel lost his composure, knees buckling as his head spun. He realized his mistake as his legs gave way, putting pressure on his scalp as his hair was still firmly in Crowley’s grip and he struggled a moment to gain his footing again. 

All while an amused demon felt every struggle and emotion he experienced. 

Crowley unlatched from him. “You’re so cute when my actions chase every comprehensible thought out of your pretty head. I love that I do that to you.”

Aziraphale gave him a bit of an indignant look that softened away as Crowley returned to worshiping him through kisses, nips and use of that talented tongue. It was too much. His body ached for more and yet he could do nothing, stuck there with Crowley’s strong grip keeping his head firmly in place. Aziraphale let out an impatient whimper, writhing as best he could under the circumstances. 

“Quiet. I’ll let you go when I’m ready.”

Quick as anything, Crowley was behind him, arm wrapped around Aziraphale’s neck, free hand wandering downward to unbutton his trousers a bit clumsily. With a little effort, it snaked in to find hard, warm flesh covered by soft skin and took a hold of that. It didn’t take much movement to excite Aziraphale to the point his hands flew up to the arm circling his throat and clung on. His nails left deep half-moon-shaped marks in Crowley’s skin, reddening it. 

Crowley’s thumb was circling the tip every so gently as his other arm squeezed tighter around the angel’s throat making his breaths come in laboured gasps. The demon laughed in his ear, his tongue licking the edges of it seductively.

“How’s that, angel? How close are you? Should I stop and take you now or should I make you come just like this?”

He was pushing boundaries and he damn well knew it, but Aziraphale gave no sign he wasn’t liking the attention. The sounds of pleasure he made said otherwise.

“Squeeze my arm if you want me to stop.” No squeeze came, so Crowley moved forward.

Unwrapping himself from Aziraphale, he grabbed the angel rather roughly, but not violently, and dragged him into the bookshop itself.

“Crowley, what are you doing?”

Crowley vanished some books from a table situated in front of one of the shaded windows and pushed Aziraphale against it. Clothing disappeared as Crowley smiled a rather evil-looking grin.

“Bend over, angel.”

Aziraphale gave him a look over his shoulder of pure shock. “We’re in front of the window!”

“Yes. And the shade’s down so stop worrying. Bend over. Remember you’re free to say stop if you get uncomfortable.”

Aziraphale did as he was asked only to find himself briefly teased by his lover before he was thoroughly penetrated – gently yet urgently. Crowley’s need for release was starting to take over. 

“Think about it,” whispered Crowley in the angel’s ear as he thrusted hard into Aziraphale’s welcoming body. “Nothing separates us from the outside but that shaded window. What would the crowds think to know what the bookseller does inside his shop? And with whom? A lecherous serpent like myself. Did you just get harder? You did, you lustful angel, I felt it. I think you’d better bite that tongue of yours and keep as silent as possible. This building’s old and that window doesn’t have double glazing. Or are you shameless, too?”

Aziraphale, who had started to nearly shout in his passion, clamped his mouth shut, muffling any sound he made. Crowley’s tongue tickled his ear, his breath hot in his curls, one hand fondling his most sensitive parts. He was dissolving quickly into nothing but a bundle of delicious frenzied emotions. It wouldn’t be much longer before it was over for him. And right there on the floor where people perused his books!

“Oh, Aziraphale, my love . . . my wonderful angel . . .” the demon moaned. This was the rare time Crowley verbally expressed his love for Aziraphale. The angel felt and heard Crowley’s breath hitch as he orgasmed. 

It was too much. Aziraphale came as well, encouraged by gentle caresses from his lover below the belt. Crowley was quick to vanish the mess and gently help his angel away from the table he leaned on, leading him carefully to the couch in the backroom where he sat down and pulled Aziraphale into his lap. 

“This has completely ruined me, I’ll have you know. Nothing else is going to matter anymore, just you.” He kissed that sweaty, curly blond head as he soothingly hugged Aziraphale. The angel was still breathing heavily after that experience.

“Oh, Crowley,” was all he could manage to say. 

They stayed there long enough for Crowley to catch his breath sufficiently to use more serious magic, then with a wave of his hand they were laying in his bed under the expensive black duvet and white sheets, Aziraphale cuddled up next to him where he could continue to give the angel aftercare. He stroked that white-bond hair while occasionally giving kisses on the top of Aziraphale’s head, the only area he could really reach right now. His reward was a sigh of contentment and a well-manicured hand stroking gently at his chest.

“Love you,” he muttered sleepily, the first instance he had ever done that outside of passionate times.

“I love you, too.”

~*~*~

Outside, Hastur could feel the passion and love that existed between the exiled pair and missed Ligur even more. Stalking off he vowed he would get answers if he had to force them out of one of them. If they could get Ligur back, so help him Satan, he would make sure they did so by any means necessary. 

And he would make sure Crowley still paid for the pain he caused him. 

~*~*~

“Sell the flat? I don’t want you to go back to it.” 

It was three days after Crowley, in disguise, met with Hastur that Aziraphale brought this up at breakfast. Days had turned into weeks, then those weeks into months by now and the two had fallen into a comfortable routine, although Crowley still had frequent bouts of anxiety over Hastur and the other demon still occasionally kept watch outside the bookshop and caused minor trouble since the promise would only take hold if they got Ligur back.

Crowley paused, his mug of coffee halfway to his mouth. “Are you serious? You can’t be serious. I’ve had that flat since . . . umm . . . oh, I don’t know anymore . . . Sixties, Seventies at least . . . and you want me to give it up?”

Aziraphale nodded. “Stay here with me? I can’t bear the thought of you returning to it and having to live alone again. You have your own space if you need it and so do I. It works out so perfectly right now.”

His blue eyes pleaded with Crowley. Damn him. It was hard to argue with Aziraphale when he really wanted something. 

“You just want me to change everything since I started sleeping with you. Typical. Never get involved in a relationship. Your boyfriend will try to improve you. If you didn’t want a demon, you shouldn’t have started dating one,” complained Crowley, but his tone told Aziraphale he wasn’t the least bit serious. Crowley just had to be Crowley.

“Just think about it, please?”

“The things I do to indulge you,” Crowley grumped back. “I wasn’t the one to threaten to never speak to you again if you didn’t stop Satan. You didn’t miracle the paint stain off of my jacket.”

Aziraphale smiled slyly before returning to eating the breakfast Crowley had made for him. He wondered what his lover had planned for dinner.

“I put some scones in the oven while I was making the eggs. I figured you’d want them for tea.” 

“Thank you, my dear. That’s most thoughtful of you,” said Aziraphale. He paused a moment or two. “I had another dream last night. About Ligur.”

“Anything useful?” Crowley had magicked up a second cup of coffee and was busy adding a tonne of sugar to it without realizing what he was doing.

“I asked him a few questions. He might very well be real. I asked him to tell me something that only you’d know and he told me you put the holy water you booby trapped your office with in a red bucket.”

Crowley nodded, correcting his coffee with a thought. “I did.”

“He also said he returned to consciousness after Adam changed everything, but he’s kind of discorporated. He’s nowhere, without a body, yet stuck in certain location he can’t leave. He doesn’t know why he can communicate with me through dreams, either,” Aziraphale continued. “I really wish he wouldn’t be so rude. We’re trying to help him here.”

“Ligur’s an evil bugger. Almost human,” Crowley had finished stirring his coffee and was staring into it watching it swirl to a stop. 

He rose as he heard the oven beep and walked over to levitate the scones out on to the cooling rack. That done, he turned back to the table, his serpentine eyes thoughtful. “You’ve a whole shop full of books. Got anything on making a body? I’ve always wanted to play Frankenstein.”

“I didn’t know you read that.”

“Nah, watched the movie.”

Aziraphale rolled his eyes. “Anyway, getting back on subject, I don’t know. It’s not like I’ve actually _read_ every single part of every book I own. That’s the beauty of it. There’s always something out there I can read for the first time.”

“Now who’s getting off the subject?”

“You do realize we might not be of high enough ranks to actually make a body?”

“Speak for yourself. I was helping create nebulas back in the day. I think if I can create stellar nurseries, I can handle putting a body together.”

Aziraphale tapped his fork on the table thoughtfully. “I was meant to bestow knowledge and blessings on the physical world, not create things or defend the Realm and really, I’m ok with that. I was not exactly Created with a fighting spirit. Virtues and Powers work with the celestial bodies in the universe. _You_ were firmly in the Second Sphere, my dear. Weren’t you?”

His look begged for more information that he wasn’t going to get. Crowley never talked about his time as an angel; it was surprising he let go of this one piece of information. He had a lot of power if he was creating heavenly bodies like nebulae. Why was he such a low-ranked demon, then? Was it because he refused to play politics? Or because being on Earth interested him more than having rank in Hell?

“It works out perfectly, then,” said Crowley, who obviously was not going to make further comment on his angelic origins. “You’ve the brains; I’ve the brawn, so to speak. And making bodies would be helpful to know. It’s not like we’re going to get new ones if we discorporate. Think about it. If we can create corporations, we’re golden.”

“Let’s solve the Ligur problem first.”

Aziraphale cleaned up breakfast with a wave before he headed out to the bookshop. Upstairs is where he kept the books he didn’t want anyone touching, ever. A simple spell on the staircase repelled anyone he didn’t want climbing it, which would basically be everyone but him and Crowley. 

Crowley had followed him out into the dimly-lit second floor of the shop where he could all but hear the dust settling. He swiped a shelf with a finger, noting that dust settled on everything but the books themselves. Aziraphale had already disappeared among bookshelves that more resembled stacks in a library. Not knowing what to do, he carefully leaned against one. It became clean the moment his arm touched it.

“Ok . . . here.” It sounded like Aziraphale was pulling a few volumes off the shelf. “These books talk of types of spirits. Maybe we can figure out what Ligur actually is. Over there is the more complicated spell types. Maybe something about making and permanently possessing bodies is in them.”

“I can’t believe we’re talking about bringing him back,” grumbled Crowley as he was handed a stack of thick volumes.

“You can help me go through them. It shouldn’t take long if we use spells to look for certain phrases.”

“Great. I was so looking forward to spending my day thumbing through dry tomes.”

“Do you want this over with?”

“Yes.”

“Then hush, go find a seat and start researching.”

Crowley found four large volumes being pushed towards him by his partner. Sighing the world’s most overdramatic sigh, he wished up a table with a couple of comfortable chairs in an area with enough space so they wouldn’t have to keep going back and forth up and down the stairs doing their research. Aziraphale startled and stared hard at him when he casually dropped his armful of books on it.

“Be careful! Some of those books are from Heaven’s library and might be older than you.”

“The only thing older than me is God,” Crowley muttered.

“I heard that.”

Several hours later, they were through one side of a large bookshelf and while Aziraphale was doing fine, Crowley was ready to pull his hair out. Even with spells to pick up on key words, it was slower going than he thought it would be and he was ready to risk walking up to Hastur to pour a vial of holy water on him just to get this over with. He laid his head on the table with a groan, the top of it brushing against a book.

“Get your hair off the books. The oil from it could ruin them.”

Aziraphale received a muffled “sorry” in reply. He couldn’t tell if it was sarcastic or not, but he took it on faith it was. Either way, Crowley’s head came up, his eyes looking rather bleary. “Can we take a break? Please? I’m going to die here.”

“You’re immortal.”

“Fine, I’ll just wish I was dead.”

“All right! Go yell at your plants or something. I’ll keep going here.”

The plants didn’t require a “pep talk,” but Crowley watered and fertilized a few that needed it. Then he checked the fridge for ingredients. After that he took the time to make an apple pie because he felt like it, conjuring the apples he used from an orchard south of London. Nobody would miss those eight-ten apples he had to ripen, anyway. Certain other parties didn’t need to know they were stolen.

Aziraphale still read on, concentrating so hard he didn’t hear the footsteps come up behind him.

“For the love of all, come up for air once in a while.”

“Shhh, Crowley, I’m getting somewhere.” The angel was scribbling down notes in that copperplate writing of his. He had several sheets of paper covered with writing. A few of the books that had slips of paper in them were piled separately from the rest of them. 

“Pop out your wings. I bet it’s been forever since you groomed them,” said Crowley. “I’m bored. I need something to do.”

“Apparently you need to distract me,” Aziraphale replied, glaring at him over both his shoulder and his reading glasses, but white wings appeared anyway.

Crowley sat in a chair directly behind him carefully combing his fingers through Aziraphale’s dusty feathers, realigning the ones that needed it and wishing the rest of them clean. It was so hard to keep his activities to just wing care. He so wanted to bury his face in those gloriously soft, and now clean, feathers while stroking along sensitive bones. Instead, he firmly concentrated on carefully removing damaged primaries and wishing in new ones before settling in for the task of spraying them with a kind of leave-in conditioner meant for hair that worked great to keep feathers lightly oiled and in good condition. 

Crowley was nothing if not vain. He’d figured out all kind of tricks over the years to keep his wings looking as good as his tresses. It didn’t matter they spent almost all their time in the celestial plane invisible to everyone on Earth.

“They’re _wings_ , Crowley. It’s not like I can show them off to anyone.”

“Except me. And I like them looking perfect.”

Aziraphale gave up with a sigh and turned the page of the book he was reading. Crowley continued with his work on the angel’s wings, enjoying the feel of feathers in his hands. It was hard to make white shine as well as black, but he was determined to do so. 

“Crowley!” The angel twisted in his chair, whacking the demon with a face full of feathers. 

“Would you _watch_ those? Now I feel like I have to sneeze.” Crowley rubbed desperately at his nose hoping that unpleasant sensation would go away.

“Yes, yes. Sorry, my dear. We need to go to your flat.”

“Why?”

“That might be the key to getting Ligur back.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Crowley pushes Aziraphale's limits here without negotiating such a thing with him. First of all, this is a story with fictional characters so nobody gets hurt here. Second, it's a relationship between two supernatural beings who have known each other for around 6000 years. They probably have a bond and an understanding of each other we cannot even fathom as mortal beings who exist on this Earth for a blink of an eye. Crowley is not going to do anything that would hurt his angel. 
> 
> Bottom line is this: Don't push people's limits without consent, kids. Boundaries are there for a reason.


	7. Trapped

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Something brushed his mind causing him to stiffen physically in response. “Oh. No. You. Don’t.”_
> 
> _But Ligur did. The other demon inserted himself quite deftly into Crowley’s mind if only because Crowley was caught at unawares. The presence of another spirit felt heavy in his brain. His physical body reacted poorly, like it was straining to remain in one piece. Two demons couldn’t possess the same body anymore than an angel and demon could. It was going to rupture very soon here if he didn’t expel Ligur._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm posting this one a bit early because I have a busy few days ahead of me. I'm finishing up a costume for a party in a couple of weeks (female version of Crowley's 1940s suit . . . hey, I'm a cute little redhead who likes demons 😁), have gaming night and family in town. 
> 
> Enjoy! We're starting to get to the good stuff with Hastur and Ligur.

Aziraphale was busy examining the not-stain on the floor of the office in Crowley’s flat. Crowley was in the lounge, hands in his jeans pockets as he watched the rain come down outside pattering on to his balcony. It seemed strange to be here when the entire place was empty, save for those memories of what he did to Ligur. 

Using the digital camera Crowley conjured up for him after complaining how Aziraphale really needed to get a mobile, the angel got some shots of the office floor, which was devoid of anything resembling Ligur’s last moments on Earth. It was like it didn’t happen.

“You can come in, Crowley,” Aziraphale called. “There’s nothing in here and I need you to open the safe.”

Crowley strode in, acting more casual than he felt. He spun through the safe’s combination, opening it for Aziraphale. They both peered in at the tartan flask sitting there as if Crowley had never taken it out to use. Picking it up, Aziraphale gave Crowley a look.

“It’s full.” Aziraphale waved a hand over it and it vanished. “I sent it to a bubble dimension for now. I don’t know why, but I don’t feel right about leaving it here in an empty flat.”

“Welcome to the wonderful world of paranoia,” Crowley replied as he closed up the safe again. “It’s not a place you belong, angel. We’d better solve this soon.”

He crouched down near the door where the bucket had been balanced, hand on the floor, eyes closed behind those sunglasses. An irregular circle of a sickly shade of magenta glowed there a minute or so while Aziraphale fumbled with the camera, getting a shot or two off before it disappeared again.

“There’s still the memory of it. Weird,” commented Crowley as he stood back up. “Now what?”

“Ligur?” asked Aziraphale, staring off into the middle distance in the direction of the office’s window. 

Crowley could see nothing, not that he wanted to see Ligur again. Warily he watched as Aziraphale swayed a moment, then crumpled to the floor in a dead faint before Crowley could spring across the room to catch him.

Anger flared in him as he cradled his angel, checking him over for any sign Ligur was really there and made an attempt to possess him. Careful probing revealed that only Aziraphale’s ethereal spirit resided in his body. Relief washed over the demon. If anything happened to Aziraphale, he would find Ligur’s spirit then tear it apart so thoroughly he’d never be able to piece himself back together.

Something brushed his mind causing him to stiffen physically in response. “Oh. No. You. Don’t.”

But Ligur did. The other demon inserted himself quite deftly into Crowley’s mind if only because Crowley was caught at unawares. The presence of another spirit felt heavy in his brain. His physical body reacted poorly, like it was straining to remain in one piece. Two demons couldn’t possess the same body anymore than an angel and demon could. It was going to rupture very soon here if he didn’t expel Ligur.

 _Get out. NOW._ Crowley pushed against the force that was Ligur’s spirit, imagining himself pushing it straight out through his skull.

_I will. It does me no favours to destroy your body. I need you as loathsome as that thought is. I’m real, not quite on the physical plane and stuck in this stupid flat except for the times I can enter dreams. Help the angel get me back in the physical plane and I’ll leave you two the fuck alone for all you murdered me, you snake._

And he was gone. The pressure Crowley felt in every system of his physical body let up to his relief. He sagged forward almost on to the prone form of Aziraphale, who was just beginning to stir. Stroking his angel’s curly head, all Crowley's attention was focused on Aziraphale as he opened his sky blue eyes. 

“You ok?” he asked as Aziraphale reached up to caress his cheek. 

“I’m fine, my dear. He passed through me to let me know he’s real and that was enough to cause a reaction.”

“Stay there. Let me check, please, angel.” 

The politeness of the request prompted Aziraphale to keep still in Crowley’s lap and let him put his hands on his temples to check for anything mental or physical that might need healing. He could feel the demon scanning him for signs any part of him needed healing then sensed him gently withdraw.

“You had a mild concussion. I took care of it.”

“Thank you, love.” Aziraphale smiled that wonderfully pure smile of his that had made Crowley’s heart melt since the beginning of Time.

Helping him up, Crowley planted a light kiss on his forehead. “Anything for you, angel. Let’s go home.”

Aziraphale’s own heart nearly leapt out of his chest the moment he heard Crowley call the bookshop “home”.

~*~*~

Book open and notes spread out next to it on the table, Aziraphale explained to Crowley what he had found. 

“. . . not really explicit, but as far as I can tell it’s the spell used to make a corporation for a supernatural spirit to house itself in so that it can exist physically on Earth’s plane and interact with living beings and items in that plane. Like I said earlier, if it isn’t bound to the body, an exorcism can kick a spirit out. Well, a demonic one, anyway. It takes a different kind of banishing ritual to send an angel back to Heaven.”

He paused a moment then muttered quietly, “Or you could shove one unprepared into a transportation circle.” Shadwell’s “exorcism” was still a sore spot for him. 

Crowley ignored his little snit, picked up the notes and scanned them. “Huh. Are you serious? We could conceivably make bodies?”

“Yes. But I’m nervous about that. What if we seriously screw something up?”

“Worth a try. If we get Ligur back, we get rid of Hastur,” Crowley replied, still reading. He flipped to the second page of the note pad. “And we secure our own places on Earth. It’s a good thing we don’t get sucked back into Heaven or Hell like human souls do or we would be screwed. Since our spirits sit here on Earth until we schlep ourselves back to Home Base, all we’d have to do is find a way to keep a body on hand so the other one of us could do the spell to get our spirit back into a physical body.”

“Let’s worry about that later, my dear. I need to find the spell to bind a supernatural spirit to a body still. If you don’t do that, a simple exorcism can kick it out.”

Crowley snorted. “You’d think they’d be in the same book. Honestly, why wouldn’t they be?”

“They might be. I used a bit of magic to find information on making a body, but not one for putting a spirit in a body yet,” Aziraphale replied. “Too overwhelming otherwise with all that information swirling around demanding my attention. This would be easier if you didn’t get so bored with research.”

The comment was a bit pointed but he made it while leaning up for a kiss as forgiveness. Crowley obliged. Aziraphale ran his tongue along Crowley’s bottom lip in a manner that hinted at later activities.

“Hey, I found the spell to pull that bastard fully into the physical plane. We would have been screwed had he not communicated to me that he was halfway stuck between physical and ethereal planes.”

Aziraphale gave him a look. “You only found that after an afternoon of complaining about having to flip through old, boing books.”

“I’ll go make dinner.” The demon sauntered off with a sly smile to experiment with curry.

~*~*~

They didn’t ward the flat, Hastur noted as he watched them get into Crowley’s old car to head off. He entered, careful to erase any trace of his breaking in as he did. 

There was nothing to see. He strolled from lounge to kitchen to office where he examined the safe closely before opening it. Nothing. Is this where Crowley kept that holy water of his? Did his angelic lover give it to him?

A wind blew through as he pondered Crowley’s dealings and whether the angel had helped him all along. He turned around and felt it.

“Ligur?”

~*~*~

Crowley wondered how hot he should make the vegetable curry as he stood there at the counter everything needed to throw it together laid out neatly. Should he put some chicken in it or not? It’s not like he or Aziraphale were vegetarians or anything. Or at least they hadn’t been since humans started raising animals for food and back then they had basically only eaten at times it was necessary to keep up appearances.

And now Crowley spent nearly day cooking two or three meals a day as if they required them and they slept a few nights a week. How times had changed. How easily these days they had fallen into such a human routine of eating, sleeping and physically showing affection in a very human way. And somehow it seemed so right to act so human despite being an angel and a demon. He mused on this realization as he mixed up the sauce.

Only humans didn’t face the trials they did. No human had ever had to find a way to bring another human’s soul back to Earth then stuff it in a body. He mused it would be nice if they could just be left alone to live the strange-yet-satisfying hybrid life they had developed here on this stupidly wonderful planet.

Aziraphale entered the flat still wearing his reading glasses. Crowley looked up from the hob where the curry was bubbling away to see the angel sniff in surprise at the smell of it.

“Are we going to actually be able to eat that, my dear? It smells awfully spicy.”

Crowley shrugged. “It’s not like you can’t miracle it to your taste, angel. I just wanted to try something different. Think outside the box. I don’t always have to cook English fare or _haute cuisine_. Did you find something? Need help? It’s not like I can’t leave this to cook on its own.”

“Not yet. I just wanted to know what was going on in here. It smells so different.”

“Don’t you start complaining. I’ve watched you eat sashimi, for the love all that’s holy and sinful.” Crowley preferred his fish cooked. “Ok, you smelled it. Now get back to work while I finish here. I’ll figure out something else to make you in case you don’t like it. The things I do for you, angel.”

Aziraphale headed back out again with a laugh. “Thank you, Crowley. I do appreciate it.”

The angel spent the rest of the evening with his nose in books, researching. Crowley joined every now and again as he could tolerate it, but Aziraphale knew he was doing the best he could; he did make up for it with the cooking and tending to other duties around the bookshop and flat while Aziraphale concentrated solely on his research. Yet it was nice that Crowley was sitting next to him right now flipping through old books to help, even if just for the companionship. This whole ordeal had turned so time-consuming. The only intervals they seemed to have together to just enjoy each other was at meals and the occasional nighttime when they slept.

Aziraphale would have preferred not to sleep at all, spending all his time combing through tomes, but Crowley insisted he try once in while just as a means to communicate to Ligur about their progress. He didn’t like it, of course, considering how much he despised the two Dukes of Hell who consistently bullied him since Hell’s creation, but he figured it would keep Ligur from trying anything awful if he knew that they were working on the problem.

He didn’t know what Ligur could do to Aziraphale, given the strange link between the two, nor did he want to find out. Nobody was going to hurt his angel if he could at all prevent it.

“C’mon, angel.” Crowley’s voice broke through Aziraphale’s concentration. “Come get something to eat at least. It’ll be a bit of a break and you need it.”

Aziraphale looked up. “Is dinner ready?”

“It was over two hours ago. I just let you keep going. Not like I can’t keep it warm.”

So Aziraphale spent a half hour enjoying curry more than he thought he would, probably partially because Crowley had made it. He felt weary, though. Mentally and physically weary because he just wanted these trials to be over with. It would be nice to be left in peace for once. 

“You should get some sleep.”

“If I do, chances are good Ligur will make an appearance. I simply can’t handle a conversation with him tonight.”

Crowley nodded. “Why don’t we both weave some protection spells around the bedroom to keep him out?”

“That sounds like a wonderful idea. Thank you.”

“I didn’t find anything in my searches. Did you?”

“No. It makes me think the spells were separated on purpose to keep only but the most persistent from trying this. Making the body alone looks complicated, let alone securing your spirit to it.”

“No wonder they insisted you be in a trance when you got a body. Didn’t want you to know the spell. I doubt now it has a thing to do with the actual process.” Crowley muttered.

Aziraphale miracled the plates away now that both of them has finished dinner, a pensive look on his face. “Yet Adam Young was able to pull me out of Madam Tracy and give me a body just like that. I do so wish we could do that with Ligur and be done with this.”

Crowley was beside him, gently pulling him to his feet. “C’mon, angel. Time to put up some protections and get some sleep. You can ponder things further in the morning.”

~*~*~

The spell would be easy enough for him to do, especially with those two holed up for the last week in the bookshop. He assumed they were researching ways to get Ligur back, but enough was enough. He was tired of waiting on them. Hastur decided to kick them into action. 

He was able to push through the wards enough without raising immediate alarm to put a note through the mail slot then got to work. This was the ultimatum. They either get the work done, or face the consequences.


	8. Try Not to Panic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The clock is ticking as Aziraphale and Crowley try to get Ligur back to the physical plane and Hastur off their backs.

Something shifted. Aziraphale’s eyes flew open as he felt the change. He was currently in the bed he shared with Crowley, spooning with the demon. Quickly he turned over to face Crowley only to find the darkness was complete. There was not a hint of light to see by. Miracling up a small light, he saw golden serpentine eyes staring back at him, glowing softly with Crowley’s night vision as the demon struggled to go from half asleep to fully awake. He caressed his cheek before getting up.

“I’ll check it out.” Heading to the window, Aziraphale pulled apart the blinds to peer out.

He gasped as Crowley sat up, suddenly alarmed. 

“What’s wrong?” asked the demon. He wished on some silk boxers and got out of bed. Aziraphale already had a fluffy dressing gown on over his old-fashioned style pyjamas.

The window was completely black, absolutely no sign of the street outside with its twinkling lights. Aziraphale touched the glass with a glance at Crowley then he bolted out of the flat and down the stairs to the front door. Ripping it open, there was nothing beyond it but solid stone. He put a hand against it, feeling the magic. It was not truly rock but a shield covering the entire bookshop, keeping them in and everyone else out. 

Hastur. It had to be Hastur.

He could hear Crowley breathing heavily beside him, his breaths coming quicker and shallower with each passing moment. Turning to the demon, he saw what state Crowley was in. Nearly hyperventilating, eyes large with pupils dilated so wide they barely were the vertical slits Aziraphale was used to. He had sunk to his knees, unable to take his gaze off of the blocked door.

“Crowley? . . . Crowley? What’s wrong?” Aziraphale tried to make eye contact with him with no success. “Crowley, you need to tell me what’s wrong.”

He didn’t seem to be getting through. Carefully, Aziraphale kneeled before him, extremely concerned. He took Crowley’s head in his hands, trying to get the demon to look at him, but those eyes remained sightless with panic. He cradled him, adjusting their positions enough that Aziraphale shielded the door from sight and Crowley’s head was resting, facing into the bookshop, on the angel’s soft, fluffy shoulder. Aziraphale sat there patiently with him, stroking his red hair. 

“It’s ok, Crowley. We’ll get through this. We always do. Please, Crowley, talk to me. This is a rather severe reaction. What happened to you, my dear? I’m going to pop us back upstairs so we can talk, all right?”

An instant later they were back on the bed, propped up in it by a mountain of fluffy pillows, Aziraphale still holding his demon. Crowley clung to Aziraphale like he was drowning. 

“Remember that time several centuries ago when I disappeared for like sixty years?” Crowley asked in a distant voice barely above a whisper.

“Yes. I figured you had been discorporated and Hell was being petty about giving you a body. Is there another reason you wouldn’t talk about it?” Aziraphale resumed his gentle stroking of Crowley’s hair in an attempt to keep him reasonably calm.

“I was punished for a tempting that went horribly wrong. I was to get some tribes’ leaders to the point of war, but then suddenly peace was negotiated no matter how I tried to throw a spanner in the works.” Crowley snuggled in, clinging tightly to Aziraphale like only the angel could save him. “I was locked in room smaller than my lounge for several decades with nothing. Just the stone walls and floor. I went mad, angel.”

The demon shuddered; Aziraphale held him close. 

“I’m so sorry, love.”

“There’s probably still blood on the walls from where I scratched my own fingernails down to nubs trying to dig my way out. I screamed myself hoarse. Beat on the walls until I broke bones in my hands. Contemplated bashing my own head against the stone, but discorporation wouldn’t have changed the situation. I was in a constant state of panic for . . . I don’t know how long, then my senses just went dead from the deprivation and I slowly lost it mentally. I wasn’t even sure who I was anymore. I lost all sense of identity. After a while, I just sat down and went comatose.” Crowley went silent for a bit. “Forty years I was there before they released me. I spent the next twenty accessing my memories to remember who I was. To readjust to life on Earth before I contacted you again. I know we’re rather resilient creatures overall and can repair our minds and bodies relatively quickly in the grand scheme of things, but I still try not to think about how horribly it would have damaged me if I had been human. I was thankful I wasn’t.”

“Oh Crowley, my dear, I wish you would have told me. I would have helped you,” the angel replied softly, his heart going out to his lover after hearing that admission.

“I can’t be trapped again. I just can’t. It’ll drive me mad.” There was a note of barely contained dread in that tone.

It was then that Hastur’s note found them, a lone piece of parchment floating down on a non-existent wind until Aziraphale caught it. He opened it and a small hologram-like version of Hastur stood there on it, smiling in the ugliest, most self-congratulatory manner.

“Crowley. Aziraphale. You’ve figured out you’re stuck, I presume.”

Crowley sat up to appear less vulnerable. “Hastur. Of course you’d pull a stupid stunt like this. Makes it hard for us to get Ligur free, don’t you think?”

Hastur leered at the exiled demon. “I went to your place, Crowley. Nice job warding it there, boys. I learned a few things . . . like Ligur’s stuck in limbo and tied to that damn flat. And that you have all the information you need right there in that blasted bookshop. You just need to find it. You will find it or you’ll be stuck in that shielded bookshop for the rest of Earth’s existence. I doubt either of you are strong enough to break through it. You have three days. I’ll return then.”

The parchment vanished in a puff of smoke, Crowley just about going into another panic attack. Aziraphale gave him a worried look and went back to attempting to soothe him. He held him close, rubbing his back.

“Well, I guess it’s time we made a body,” the angel said. “Luckily I narrowed down the books I need to search for the other spell last night. We can search together. It shouldn’t take long now.”

“No. You search because I’ve the power to create the body. Just give me the spell,” Crowley replied although he still sounded distant.

“Are you sure? It’s a complicated spell requiring runes and you’re a bit shaken right now.”

“We don’t have much time. I’m going to have to get over the claustrophobia . . . thing. Let’s get dressed and get on this.”

It wasn’t ten minutes later Crowley was poring over the spell Aziraphale had written out, studying the intricacies of the runes involved – runes piled upon runes to make complicated sigils – because getting one stroke wrong could mean total disaster. Across from him Aziraphale was leafing through book after book, chasing down the parts his word-finding spells pointed him to. 

And that’s how they spent hours, feeling the clock tick and Hastur practically breathing down their neck. Sometimes Crowley’s hand shook as he practiced the runes over and over. Aziraphale set book after book aside, eliminating them from consideration.

Crowley had moved aside the rug hiding Aziraphale’s heavenly communication circle, deeming it the best place to work. He vanished the communication circle, leaving nothing but open floor to work with. More nervous than he had ever been in his life, he took up a piece of chalk and drew half the runes in, stopping to compare them with those in the book. He was sweating with the effort. This could not go wrong.

“Aziraphale! Can you look at this?”

“Yes. Two shakes of a lamb’s tail.”

“I heard that.” muttered Crowley, fidgeting with the chalk in his hand as he squinted again at the runes and waited. 

“That one needs to be more circular,” said the angel beside him, startling him out of his concentration.

“Don’t do that! Which one?”

“Third from the right. . . needs to be more circular . . . there. . . that’s perfect. Going to go ahead and make the other half?”

Crowley pinched his nose. “Might as well. I can’t stay here for three days.”

A soft hand took his. He glanced over to see Aziraphale smiling at him. “I’ll help.”

So they did. Crowley drew the runes while Aziraphale checked them over before he moved on to the next one. Hands still shaking, he looked at his lover with a bit of apprehension and a bit of a smile.

“I’d better get this one right because you won’t be able to correct me. Wish me luck.”

“Good luck.” Aziraphale said softly as Crowley started drawing.

“That’s that,” Crowley sighed as he stepped back watching for anything to happen. 

The sigils made up of all the drawn runes started to softly glow purple, growing with intensity until neither demon nor angel could look at it. They shielded their eyes from the light, arms in front of their faces. Crowley actually wished he had his sunglasses on. 

Crowley took in a deep breath and chanted the relatively simple verbal incantation that was the second component of the overall spell. He could now feel power draining from him, being twisted into something else. Feeling weaker, he was glad Aziraphale hadn’t contributed his own powers to this endeavor. The Principality would have been sucked dry. 

Then there was nothing but the soft electric light of the bookshop, provided courtesy of a miracle of Aziraphale’s. A perfect likeness of Ligur lay in the circle, skin and hair both slightly paler than Ligur’s. Nothing out of the ordinary. Unoccupied bodies tended to be lighter in color than those that contained someone’s spirit.

Crowley stumbled to a chair and collapsed into it. “That took a lot out of me. I just need to sit for a bit.”

“Lean on me, I’ll help you up to the bedroom. You should probably sleep.” Aziraphale got Crowley standing and leaning on his shoulder to take him upstairs. With the power drain he experienced, transporting him magically would be jarring, like touching raw nerves. “Let things renew.”

“They won’t,” Crowley replied in an exhausted voice. “Not until this shield’s lifted.”

Aziraphale hid his concern as he got Crowley upstairs and to the bedroom where the demon fell into the bed to sleep for a very long time.

~*~*~

Aziraphale could barely wake Crowley two days later with the news that he did locate the correct spell to bind a spirit to a body. The demon raised a disheveled red-haired head with a sleepy smile as he blinked heavily at his partner. Crowley's hand snaked out to give Aziraphale a light pat on the arm.

“Knew you could, angel,” he muttered before laying back down. “Sorry. So tired.”

He roused late in the afternoon, but although he seemed a bit less tired than before, he was visibly still very weak. He sat downstairs in a chair by the now-covered body while Aziraphale paced near by.

“Aziraphale, I think we’re going to have to wait the rest of it out. Calling him isn’t working.”

“You’re not well. We need out of this shield.” 

“I’m missing some power and it’ll affect me until I can renew it. That’s all. It’s not like I’m dying.”

“I don’t like it.”

“Neither do I, but there’s little we can do. Angel, there are times I’m trying my best not to panic here because I’ve _been_ through being trapped before. But I’ve managed to convince my mind that it can’t do that right now. I think you need to convince yours that I’m going to be fine. Because I am.”

“I wonder if we could pull Ligur out of my dreams into reality.”

Crowley snorted. “I’d rather not have him in the same room as me until Hastur decides to come pick him up.”

“Could we draw something like a demon summoning circle around the body to hold him?”

“No, angel. Let’s not.” Crowley yawned, slumping a bit in the chair he was sitting in. “I don’t think I have the energy left to do that and I don’t know if you can do that spell and the binding one without being able to renew your powers.”

Aziraphale shot him a concerned look. “You should go back to bed, my dear.” 

But suddenly his face became very determined. Striding as close to the center of the bookshop’s compass as he could, he called out. “Hastur! I know you’re keeping watch on us! We have the body. We have the spell to bind Ligur to it. Keeping us here any longer is not going to do any good. It’s just going to delay getting Ligur back here. We can only do that at Crowley’s flat!”

And with a sickening lurch, the world changed. Aziraphale felt extra weight on his shoulder as Crowley, who was now abruptly beside him, clung to it in an attempt to stay standing. He put a hand around Crowley’s waist to help steady him while sending some of his power out to poke around. They were still under some kind of shield, but this time in the plant room in Crowley’s flat. How were they going to work the spell like this? It was going to be difficult if he didn’t have a fully-powered Crowley to help.

Aziraphale just thanked his lucky stars that he decided to keep a hold on the spell book while trying to contact Hastur. In it were stuffed the notes on how to pull Ligur’s spirit fully into Earth’s plane so he could be put into a body. 

“Wanker,” hissed Crowley upon realizing he couldn’t renew his powers. “Knock it off, Hastur. You were never one to play games. Let’s get this shit over with.”

Hastur popped into the room accompanied by the sheet-covered body. “You were always the joker, Crowley. Thought I’d give it a try.”

“Let’s just do this so I never have to look at your ugly face again,” Crowley sneered. “Lift the shield so I can repower.”

“I’m not falling for that.”

“If I can’t draw on my powers then this fails. It needs both of us. Do you want Ligur back or not?”

It was Hastur’s turn to sneer. “I can always send you back to the shielded bookshop for the rest of eternity. How would you like that, you bastard?”

“You could,” smirked Crowley, acting more confident than he felt. “But Ligur’s spirit would be bound bodiless to this flat forever, now wouldn’t it? Do you think anyone in Hell gives a damn about rescuing him but you? One less Duke to bully the rest of them.”

Hastur angrily made a gesture then Crowley felt himself reconnect to the universe from where his powers came. He found a handy ley line and followed it to a pocket of energy, gaining back his strength as he took in the power.

Feeling much better, he conjured up a pair of sunglasses winking at Aziraphale in easy confidence before he put them on.

Aziraphale closed his eyes to concentrate on finding Ligur’s weak spirit. “I have him. I need to pull him into Earth’s plane first.”

A few complicated hand gestures later, the angel smiled slightly. “He’s here fully. We can get him into a body. Crowley?”

“Let’s do this. The sooner it’s over with, the better.”

“You’d better not be pulling a fast one on me. You’ll live to regret it, Crowley. You and Aziraphale. I promise.”

“Just shut it and let us work.”

“Should we insist they go into a trance?” whispered Aziraphale close to Crowley’s ear.

“No. It’ll be suspicious and if it’s one thing the higher ups in Hell have in common, it’s they’re not very smart. Neither one of them have the brain cells necessary to remember such a complicated spell.”

Hastur was becoming impatient. “Well? Get on with it.”

He paced the flat for the next hour while Aziraphale and Crowley carefully drew elaborate runes on the floor from the spell book the angel carried. Occasionally one of them would step back, look it at, then go back in to erase and redo. Hastur was on high alert. He was taking a big chance here trusting these two traitors to not do something to him. He’d have to hope his own powers as a Duke of Hell would be enough to counter them if they so much as attempted to double-cross him. The Principality was actually more of a worry than Crowley. Angels of any level could smite which would be deadly to his earthly corporation.

Runes. This was old magic, indeed. Most of what they did anymore was with hand gestures or the snapping of fingers. No wonder so few demons knew how to ensoul a body and why it was kept such a closely-guarded secret. Hastur wanted very badly to remember those runes, the order they were written in and the pattern which they were placed, but there was no way. Not without casting a spell of his own that would alert them to what he was up to.

Crowley noticed Aziraphale was putting a few extra circles of runes off to the side of the main one. He raised a questioning eyebrow at that only to receive a confident smile in return. What was that angel up to?

They both pulled back a few minutes later. 

“Ok, looks good,” said Aziraphale, handing the spell book to Crowley. “You’re better equipped for the incantation than I am. Please?”

Crowley took the book, reciting the ancient language known these days only to demons and angels. The three of them could almost feel a rush of air fill the room as Ligur’s infernal spirit bound itself to the flesh body awaiting it. The spell did require a lot of power making Crowley glad that his angel didn’t do it himself. It would have taken several days for him to recuperate after being sucked dry by it and that was no guarantee it was enough power to satisfy it. As Aziraphale had said, his job was to perform blessings and spread knowledge, not do the heavy lifting. And although Crowley hated that his lover’s power levels were somewhat limited, Aziraphale didn’t seem to mind. Of course how often was it that either of them had to perform major spells?

Turning away from the blinding glow that came from the body as the spirit bound with it, Crowley thought, _Well, this is it. They’re going to turn around and try to destroy us. I sure hope there’s truth to that promise thingy because it there isn’t, it was nice knowing you, Aziraphale, my angel._

The hair on the back of Crowley’s neck prickled as the shield slammed down again. Hastur was smiling nastily at the two of them.

“Well, it was great what you two did, but we’ve got to get back to Hell. Have fun being trapped here.”

“That’s not very sporting of you, Hastur,” Aziraphale replied almost serenely, his hands clasped behind his back in a casual pose. “But you forget you can’t harm us. And locking us away in a shield _is_ harmful, isn’t it?”

Crowley was standing beside him on the verge of hyperventilating, trying his hardest not to drop the spell book then curl up there in front of two Dukes of Hell in a fetal position. He was glad for the sunglasses that hid pupils blown wide open in panic. Aziraphale swayed a bit, rubbing up against him, a gesture Crowley was sure was no accident, but meant as soothing of a gesture as Aziraphale could manage at this moment without making Crowley look weak in front of his former superiors.

The shield shattered, covering them all with dissipating magic. Ligur cowered. Hastur gawked. Crowley regarded Aziraphale who still looked as calm as ever.

“You swore on the River Styx, the traditional crossing point into the nether regions. Heaven and Hell may have traded their customary looks for ones resembling human bureaucracy, but the oaths have never gone away, have they?”

“And I swore to you,” cried Hastur. “You’re no demon. So, how? How could _you_ make it stick?”

Crowley, wanting to know where Aziraphale was going with this, kept quiet. All he knew was Aziraphale wanted to do the body swap to trick Hastur into the unbreakable promise. His clever angel obviously hatched some bigger plan behind that. This was Aziraphale’s bastard side at its best and Crowley was enjoying it immensely, panic slowly dissipating. The demon stood back to let Aziraphale play it out.

“I’m just enough of a demon for it to matter,” replied Aziraphale with a wink. “I can survive hellfire and I can make promises stick. Do you want to find out what else I can do?”

“I’m betting you’re bluffing,” Ligur scoffed, having to get in on the conversation. “I’m not bound by any promise. How are you going to stop me?”

“By banishing you to Hell where you can never return.”

The two Dukes broke out in laughter. 

“That’s beyond your powers, Principality. C’mon, Hastur. We can take ‘em.”

Aziraphale simply made a gesture over the superfluous sigils on the floor and Ligur vanished, leaving the two remaining demons in the room shocked – one pleasantly, the other not so much.

“He won’t be coming back. The spell will make sure of that,” Aziraphale turned to Crowley. “I’m sorry I just wasted all your hard work on that body. But he’ll be able to enjoy it in Hell.”

“Umm, no problem. It was just an experiment, really. I’d rather not have the first one. Heaven knows how much I screwed it up.”

“You can’t do this! You’ll pay! I’ll make sure you pay!” Hastur was screaming over their conversation. 

“Good bye, Hastur. I’d say ‘see you soon,’ but really, we won’t.” And Aziraphale made the hand gestures that called down lightening upon the angry Duke.

Crowley stared at the smoking circle left on the floor. “You do realize how much smiting hurts.”

“Yes. Do you care?”

“As long as it’s not me, no . . . not really.” 

“Well, then. Let’s go home.”

“Angel, one thing before we do . . . will they be banished there forever?”

“Yes. The spell’s binding, even if the sigils there get erased. I made sure it attached to them and wasn’t just temporary. Hell won’t bother you anymore after this, Crowley. We’re free.”

“For now,” replied Crowley. “They won’t leave us alone when the Big One comes.”

“Let’s worry about that when we get to it, my dear.” Aziraphale took Crowley’s hand. “What do you say in the meantime we think about getting married?”

Crowley gaped at him, mouth wide open, eyes showing absolute shock even though hidden behind dark glasses. “What?” 

He didn’t have a chance to get out more than that because with one snap, Aziraphale erased all evidence of magic-work and took them home.


	9. Proposals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _They had been on slow burn for almost six thousand years now, making Aziraphale anxious to confirm things . . . he wanted some kind of symbolism that they belonged to each other, always had, always would. Now if he could get Crowley to see that._

“Marriage?” asked Crowley as they popped into the bookshop, hand-in-hand. “But that’s religious. Hardly an area I’m comfortable with, angel.”

“Humans have invented civil marriage ceremonies. Even atheists get married now because it’s just a union between two people," replied Aziraphale. "Think about it, my dear? There's still some daylight left. Let’s go for a walk in the park and maybe have dinner out. It’s been a while.”

Crowley found himself taking the Bentley out of its storage in a bubble dimension for an impromptu date with Aziraphale. It felt weird going out like this after all they had been through, seeming too quick for him as all he wanted to do was decompress before facing the world again. But Aziraphale wanted to do things, strangely enough for an angel who could hole up forever in that bookshop reading unless Crowley came along to pry him out. Maybe being actually trapped there for two and a half days had brought on this sudden need to get out into the sunshine.

So he indulged him. Because that’s what Crowley did and had done for ages. Because he had loved Aziraphale for ages.

They walked hand-in-hand through the park, Aziraphale so happy, shining with angelic love and _alive_ that Crowley couldn’t help but be just as content himself. Damn that angel. He wanted so badly to wallow in a week-long sulk before facing life again. Even that small amount time trapped had taken it out of him psychologically, as much as he didn’t want to admit it.

“Lock it down, Aziraphale. You’re starting to affect the ducks and it’s not mating season,” Crowley whispered as he watched a drake try to woo a hen. 

“Sorry.”

“Should we go somewhere private?”

“Great idea.”

Crowley found himself being pulled up in a flash of white feathers and wingbeats, his own black wings manifesting instinctively as he gasped at Aziraphale’s unusual need today to surprise the hell . . . heavens . . . whatever out of him.

“What has gotten into you? We’ll be _seen_!”

“We’re invisible. I made it so we won’t show up on radar, either.”

“Where are we going? We can’t stay in London airspace if we want peace and quiet.”

“We’ll head to the coast. South Downs isn’t crowded like London and quite lovely this time of year.”

Aziraphale caught a wind current, dragging Crowley along with him, laughing the entire time. Tumbling, gliding, soaring, the angel pulled Crowley along joyously, reveling in the acrobatics. The demon followed in his wake, utterly confused by his usually reserved angel’s uncharacteristic exuberance.

“You ok, angel? This isn’t like you,” shouted Crowley over the wind.

“It’s just been a good day, that’s all.” Aziraphale shouted back. 

On they soared, the sun setting as they traveled. It was evening when they reached a lonely cliff on the coast, landing lightly on the grass blowing in the salt-tinged breeze, tinged orange in the low light of the sun, a half sphere blazing at the horizon. Aziraphale unfolded a blanket, setting a picnic hamper on it that he started to unload. Its contents had been conjured from the refrigerator in Crowley’s bookshop flat.

“You brought me out here on a date?” inquired Crowley as he eyed the angel setting out plates and glasses.

“Why not? Last minute idea, but it seemed rather romantic. Just us out here sitting in the sea breeze while the sun sets.” Aziraphale’s blue eyes were definitely flirting with him as he glanced up from his work.

Crowley had a seat beside him. “Is it that, or are you wanting to discuss marriage again?”

Aziraphale set out some crackers and cheese before pouring two glasses of white wine. Crowley took one from him with a smile. 

“Marriage is a religious human thing created for the purpose of passing down property to known offspring. We’re supernatural beings, why do we need that?” Crowley asked. “And I don’t even _want_ to know who’d be pregnant with the children. I mean, I have a snake form. Run the risk of clutching.”

“Crowley, stop it. Nobody’s getting pregnant and since your true from is that of a winged humanoid, you wouldn’t be laying eggs. Can we just discuss it?” Aziraphale had already placed several pieces of cheese and some crackers on his plate, but hadn’t touched them yet thanks to the weird direction this conversation was going.

“No. Let’s not ruin this evening. Just give me some time to think on it. Maybe I’ll come up with something that would be a good compromise.” The demon smiled and nabbed a slice of cheese off of Aziraphale’s plate.

Aziraphale nodded, a bit disappointed. Otherwise, the picnic with his demon was very lovely. He could see where Crowley was coming from since he just sprung it on him out of nowhere when this evolution of the relationship was still shining new. But really, who were they kidding? They had been on slow burn for almost six thousand years now, making Aziraphale anxious to confirm things . . . he wanted some kind of symbolism that they belonged to each other, always had, always would. Now if he could get Crowley to see that. He had a hunch Crowley had been in love with him a lot longer than he had been in love with Crowley. He might very well appreciate the gesture as much as Aziraphale, provided it wasn’t religious. The demon had faith, normally denizens of Hell don’t ask the Almighty to reveal to them Her Great Plan. He just refused to admit to it. 

Crowley was laying back on the blanket after their meal was completed, wings manifested, eyes closed, sunglasses off. Aziraphale sat there regarding him before picking up his hand from where it lay draped across his chest then kissing it. One lazy, serpentine eye opened. 

“Quit thinking about it, angel, or I’ll have to do something to erase those thoughts from your pretty little head.” Crowley grinned ferally, pulling Aziraphale down towards him so he could give the nearest earlobe a light, sensuous nip. 

Darkness enclosed Aziraphale as he found himself enveloped in silky black feathers, as soft as anything he had ever felt. Crowley had cocooned them both in his wings, shutting out all other distractions. His flight feathers brushed Aziraphale’s own wings, which lay folded neatly against his back. Protected from view in more that one way, the two exchanged gentle kisses, snuggles and touches. 

They went gently this time, making love slowly and romantically instead of in the frenzied manner so common with new relationship energy. Aziraphale lay shirtless head on Crowley’s bare chest, both of them running feather-soft touches down each other’s skin, enjoying the pleasurable shivers and soft noises elicited by the simple touching. Aziraphale was beginning to realize how touch-starved Crowley actually was. He never thought about how things were in Hell, where everyone had an impenetrable personal bubble and the only touching that went on was when a demon knocked into another demon in passing or a fight broke out.

Aziraphale, being an angel, routinely handed out hugs and gentle touches to humans on Earth while on missions, and upon meeting angels he was friends with when returning to visit Heaven. He suddenly felt Crowley’s emptiness as he realized that he’d most likely never see any of his celestial friends again nor would he have much excuse to comfort or show angelic love to humans without missions to do. 

But it dawned on him that he now had a very different kind of emotional touching with Crowley as he ran a finger down the demon’s arm. A very loving one. One he enjoyed very much. Inching forward with a sigh, Aziraphale hugged him, still stroking his arm as he did so. He felt Crowley tracing circles lightly on his back in response, his hand occasionally bumping up against his wings.

“What’s up?” asked his partner lazily. 

“Just noticing how much you like to be touched.”

“Yeah, that. Well, it’s not like Hell is the friendliest place where acting all lovey-dovey is acceptable behavior. But don’t worry about it. I have you. That’s what matters.”

Aziraphale realized he was probably the only supernatural being who had ever treated Crowley with any semblance of kindness since his Fall, a thought that nearly broke his sensitive heart. The angel cuddled in closer hoping that Crowley could feel how much he loved him. 

“Angel,” Crowley said. “To get any closer to me, you’re going to have to peel back my skin and burrow in.” The tease was softened by tender kisses to the top of his head. 

“I was in Hell. I got a glimpse of how they behave, but I can’t imagine never exchanging any kind of purposeful touch.” 

“I have you now, don’t worry about it.”

“You never belonged there.”

“C’mere. I’m apparently going to have to kiss you to get you to shut up.”

So began another session of slow touching and long kisses. Aziraphale was the first to become impatient with the slow burn of this make-out session, trailing his hand down to Crowley’s trousers to unbutton them. Awaiting him there was a bit of a surprise. He found wetness rather than the bulge he was expecting. Vanishing Crowley’s trousers and pants, he explored the folds, inserting a finger inside. Crowley’s back arched in response.

“Did you . . . ?”

“No, that just happened. Not like we’re really male or anything.”

“True,” Aziraphale replied while tracing along the outer parts, curious. “But except for possessing Madam Tracy, I’ve always presented male. Seemed easier in the patriarchal societies we’ve been involved in over the millennia. It’s just comfortable now.”

Crowley looked up at him. “Do you need me to change it? This happens sometimes; thankfully never did during a sexual encounter with a human. You know me . . . my sex, gender; everything . . . is rather fluid at times.”

“No!” Aziraphale shook his head emphatically. “It’s you I love, not what’s between your legs. I’d be happy to experiment and figure out how it works.”

“I’ll show you the ‘on button’.” Crowley grinned, guiding Aziraphale’s hand to his clit. “Just be gentle. It’s not like some kind of lift button you can just mash.”

Carefully, under Crowley’s guidance Aziraphale rubbed that wet nub, occasionally switching to a soft, circular motion, watching as his lover arched his back, gasping deliciously in response. Feeling more curious he inserted a finger inside that inviting slit below it, figuring out that if he moved it back and forth in the well-lubricated insides, he elicited moans from Crowley. Hooking his finger up around the hardness of the pelvic bone felt through that softness, he rubbed until his lover squirmed, rocked his hips a bit in reaction. 

“This is interesting. The reactions I’m getting out of you.” 

He added a finger and swore Crowley orgasmed, rocking hard against his questing fingers. Pulling his wet hand away, he vanished the fluids on it, giving Crowley a puzzled looked.

“What?” Crowley panted, thighs still parted, slit still wet. 

“Is that all there is?”

“Oh, hell no. I can orgasm multiple times with these parts and oral is wonderful, but I’m feeling too impatient to teach that to you right now. How about a little fun for you?”

The cocoon of black feathers opened up, Crowley gestured for Aziraphale to get off. Indicating to the angel to stand up, all remaining clothing between the two of them vanished then he wrapped his mouth around Aziraphale’s cock, sucking as though inspired. His tongue teased the under side of it once in a while as he worked, teeth scraping along gently, only enough to add to it without inserting pain. He drew mostly off of it once or twice, concentrating just on the tip.

Aziraphale was lost in the sensations. Hands held fistfuls of red hair as Aziraphale tried his hardest not to pump in Crowley’s mouth as he worked. Golden yellow eyes stared up at him, lust and pleasure in that look. The demon was definitely enjoying what he was doing to him.

“Crowley, I’m . . . not going to last.”

There was suddenly nothing on his cock but wetness and the cool night air. 

“Fuck me.”

He was top of Crowley again, trying to figure out that new equipment the demon was sporting, finally sliding right in the wet tightness that was at the same time like the other entrance of Crowley’s, but very different. It seemed to grab on to him, hold him as he pushed in and out. No, it wasn’t exactly in and out, a small clinical part of his brain observed. Up and down seemed to get the best response from his lover. Rubbing in just the right areas to get Crowley to scratch his fingernails down his back as he vocalized his pleasure. 

He sternly told himself to stop it and just enjoy the newness of this love making. The warm wetness slid along with a bit less friction, the responses of his partner as he hit just the right places – Crowley orgasmed a couple of times in there when he was mindful about rubbing against “the on button.” The sensations that tingled along his groin up through the rest of his body all the way to his mind where physical was transformed into scrumptious mental pleasure.

He leaned forward to fasten his mouth on the demon’s, his tongue tasting, twisting around while his own mouth got probed. He clung God-knows-where onto Crowley’s body – all he knew was his fingers were embedded deep in his skin somewhere on his torso to give him more leverage. Crowley rocked in response, rubbing his clit against the base of Aziraphale’s cock, fingers digging into Aziraphale’s shoulders before migrating to his wings where they rubbed against sensitive areas, causing the angel to lose all control and come at the same time Crowley did in a repeat performance.

They sat cuddling together, blanket moved a few meters where it could be spread out in front of a convenient boulder, plenty of conjured pillows making it a soft backrest. Crowley had his head against Aziraphale, their hands intertwined as they talked.

“I was always under the impression one had to make an effort. I know I did, otherwise it was just another useless human body part I had to deal with for appearance’s sake,” commented Aziraphale.

“Yes,” Crowley drawled out the word like he was thinking before responding further. “I used to, then that started happening once in a great while. Maybe once every few hundred years to millennia or so.”

“It was fun, and I don’t think I’d make the effort to have . . . one of those . . . even if you do have a lot of. . . orgasms . . . with it. And I like your . . . original equipment, still as well.” The angel was flustered a bit in his effort to describe subjects he wasn’t quite comfortable with. Crowley teased him once in a while about being a prude after all this time.

“It’ll be gone by morning, never sticks around more than half a day. Back to the original equipment that came with this body,” Crowley gave a slightly teasing smile as he replied. “But it’ll probably show up again, if you don’t mind working with it.”

Aziraphale kissed him. “No matter what kind of equipment you happen to have, it’ll be you. That’s what matters, love.”

“Love you, too. Now let’s hope we don’t end up with a clutch of winged serpents with cute little halos.”

“That’s not even funny.”

Contented despite Crowley’s tasteless joke, Aziraphale conjured up a warm down duvet they both snuggled under for a quick nap here where no human would come across them, things arranged so they resided in a calm bubble, protected completely from being buffeted by the wind. 

Crowley pried one eye open briefly. “Tartan, angel? Really?”

~*~*~

Crowley glared at the paint chip on the Bentley’s door, instantly repairing it. 

“No respect for other people’s property,” he muttered. Gallantly, he opened the door for Aziraphale then headed to the driver’s side.

“It was nice to get out of London,” the angel sighed happily. 

“Yes, it was.” Crowley agreed. He had awoken from their nap feeling much refreshed and even ready to tackle the whole marriage issue if Aziraphale brought it up. He certainly wasn’t going to.

Putting the Bentley in drive, he pulled recklessly out into traffic, using his ability to bend physics to keep from hitting anyone else. Aziraphale closed his eyes and pretended Crowley drove like a normal person. Crowley shifted gears, speeding through the streets back to the bookshop, but that didn’t mean they needed to return there. They could always take a detour somewhere else. 

“We don’t have to go home, you know. We’ve been holed up there for so long trying to solve the Ligur problem it might not be a bad idea to just stay out a while,” suggested Crowley, doing a complete one-eighty from his earlier burrow-in-and-sulk attitude. 

“Some day I want to get back to Paris.”

“I’m game as long as I don’t have to break you out of prison again. But how about this morning? We could head somewhere for breakfast. I’d suggest crepes, but we’re in London.”

“Let’s head over to that nice café we found a couple of weeks ago. I believe they serve breakfast. I’m in the mood for pastries.”

Crowley steered the Bentley towards Aziraphale’s chosen café.

A half-hour later, Aziraphale was immensely enjoying a couple of different pastries while Crowley ate a simple blueberry muffin, picking it apart bit by bit in between sips of coffee. The angel kept shooting him covert looks before going back to munching on what was on his plate. It was rather infuriating, causing Crowley to roll his eyes as he sighed heavily.

“You still want to talk about it, don’t you?” he asked, noticing how Aziraphale fairly lit up at the question.

“Of course I do,” Aziraphale replied then paused a moment to try to put his thoughts into words. “It’s been a long journey to get to where we are and it’s not always been an easy one. You’re not supposed to pair off in the first place, let alone with the Enemy. What we’ve gone through . . . The number of times one side or the other would have destroyed us had they found out . . .”

“I know. I understand that you want something to show that we belong to one another. But I need you to understand I can’t do that in some ceremony created in the name of the One who dumped me in Hell for asking questions. Maybe even dumped me there as part of the Plan to make sure the Antichrist grew up normal. No other demon would have screwed up that job.” Crowley had picked the remaining portion of his muffin to crumbs while speaking. “Besides weddings are big old affairs full of friends and family. We don’t have family and our friend lists are rather short.”

He looked up, smiling ruefully. Aziraphale was nodding in agreement to that statement. 

“I know you’ve spent most of your existence being shortchanged, my dear and I’m going to do everything I can to make up for that. How about just exchanging rings? Simple and to the point. Maybe we celebrate afterwards with a bit of a holiday?”

“All right, that I can do. Shall we shop for rings together or what?”

“No, separate. It should be a surprise.”

“Ok. Let’s do it then, I guess. Anything to get you off my back about it.”

Crowley was rewarded with the pure and joyous shining of Aziraphale’s perfectly blue eyes as he smiled his most beatific smile.

~*~*~

Crowley had secured their future. Off the back of the bookshop sat a room only they knew about hidden away in a bubble dimension containing two freshly made bodies in a magically induced stasis. They didn’t know if magically-created bodies would rot like normal human ones not occupied by a soul, but Crowley wasn’t going to take chances. Chalked out on the floor was the written portion of the binding spell. Hidden within another bubble dimension in the room itself was a copy of the spoken portion of the spell. 

He felt much better now. If anything happened, they had what they needed to get back into a body, even if it meant temporarily possessing a receptive human to get back to the bookshop. He could safely do that ring exchange ceremony with Aziraphale without worrying about whether or not they had a future. As long as Heaven and Hell thought they weren’t destroyable, they would have one.

He headed out to do some ring shopping and pick up items for dinner tonight. It was nice to know he could without fear now.


	10. With this Ring

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“I think you can consider us married now. If you’re wanting the whole state-sanctioned, head down to whatever governmental department does weddings, you can forget it, angel. I think you need a birth certificate for that and I misplaced mine long ago.”_
> 
> It's about damn time these two got married, don't you think?

Aziraphale dithered. It was one of the things he did best when he was indecisive, but he wanted this all to be perfect. Crowley deserved everything to go perfectly for once. He wanted to say just the right thing when they did exchange rings. 

He had it all planned out. So he thought as he stared at his computer monitor. It shouldn’t have been able to connect to internet, due to being so antique it was created before the internet was a “thing”, but since when were human limits ever an issue?

Crowley didn’t want complicated, but just giving rings to each other seemed anticlimactic. Some humans went back to the place they first met to propose or have their particular ceremony. Not going to work. Some had destination weddings in exotic places. Too extravagant for his demon. Churches were definitely out. The bookshop seemed . . . ordinary. St. James’ too public unless they stopped time and then too crowded with statute-like people. 

He reached in his waistcoat pocket to pull out the velveteen-covered box containing the ring he had bought for Crowley. Opening it up, he looked at it sitting there, a sleek circle of black titanium embossed with a snake scale pattern. He hoped Crowley liked it.

He put it away with an exasperated exhaling of unneeded breath and got back to researching good ideas on where to do this little exchange and what he should say when he slid the ring on Crowley’s finger.

~*~*~

Aziraphale was upstairs encouraging the houseplants to grow so that Crowley would have to “lecture” them less when several bags of groceries appeared suddenly on the counter separating the kitchen from the lounge, indicating the demon would be home soon. He got to work putting things away since the last thing he wanted Crowley to know was that he was interfering with his gardening methods. 

He was right. It wasn’t long before Crowley walked in, a bit surprised to see him up here rather than minding the bookshop. Aziraphale saw him stuff a small box into his coat pocket out of the corner of his eye as he walked over to give his demon a hug and kiss.

“We should do the ring exchange tomorrow,” Crowley said to him as they embraced.

“Tomorrow? But I’m not ready.”

“You’re going to turn this into a big production, stress out and I’ll have to deal with all that. No thanks. Let’s keep it simple, ok?” Crowley untangled himself and headed to the kitchen. “I thought we’d do a nice French dinner to add to the celebration. Cook it together. What do you think?”

Aziraphale smiled. “That would be wonderful, my dear.”

“Then get in here. I’m putting you on crepe duty.” Crowley pulled a recipe card out of nowhere. “It’s easy. Let me just show you the basics and you can put them together.”

So Crowley taught Aziraphale the basics and the two of them had a wonderful time putting together tomorrow’s special dinner. Aziraphale was quite proud of his crepes, even though he burned a few at first, some others turned out too thick in places and he had a hard time getting the lumps out of the batter without resorting to magic. He watched Crowley work, amazed how the demon did everything so skillfully by hand without falling back on his powers. Seeing him work was pure joy for the angel, especially knowing that someone who knew as much as Crowley about food preparation would want someone like him around to mess things up. But Crowley was incredibly patient, especially considering it was Crowley, who wasn’t exactly known for that virtue.

Finally there was nothing else to do; Crowley had shoved the nicoise salad in the fridge. He would warm up the hot dishes and fix any wilting on the salad with a wish or two tomorrow so it would be like he had just made it fresh moments before they ate it. 

“Where are we doing this, anyway? Picked out a spot or are we just going to do it here?”

Aziraphale’s face fell. “I don’t know. I can’t think of one good area. Where’s your favourite place?”

“Honestly?” asked Crowley. “I’ve been all over this world in every location known to man and some that aren’t. I’ve lived fast – style, status, out drinking, enjoying the nightlife, but I’ve found it’s gotten old. Where we went last night was nice. Nothing but us and the sea. It was so peaceful . . . you, me and the sound of the ocean.” 

“Do you want to do it there?”

“Aww . . . I just got off on a tangent because I realized the best moments are with you. I want to do it here in this blasted bookshop that holds so many memories for me. I want to stand in the middle of that silly compass in the center of everything with you in the east because why not give in to some symbolism? Then go upstairs with you for our own private feast and whatever happens to come after that,” Crowley replied and Aziraphale swore he could see the slightest hints of a flush. “We can plan some kind of holiday after that, ok? Enjoy this stupid, wonderful world together.”

“Ok . . . bookshop it is!”

~*~*~

Aziraphale had filled with area surrounding the center of the bookshop with red and white roses. The pillars, railings and compass were draped with white and red ribbon. Crowley decided his best course of action was to grin and bear it. This was important to Aziraphale and the angel was trying his best to make it perfect for him, too, even though he didn’t need any confirmation of his love for the angel. Maybe that was because he was always confident in that love, annoyed by the fact he loved an angel at times, but always sure about it. Aziraphale spent millennia trying to keep the demon at arm’s length and justified it with his belief that they were very different. Crowley suspected there was a bit of guilt at his past attitude towards their relationship and this was his way of saying that he was in it firmly now with no regrets.

The demon pushed off the railing he was leaning on while looking down at the decorations and strolled back in the flat to get dressed. He tended to run around anymore in just a black shirt and those midnight-hued skinny jeans he favoured for as long as they had been in style, but this was not looking to be a casual affair. 

He didn’t see Aziraphale anywhere, so with a thought he changed his attire to a slim, modern tuxedo in black, of course, with a medium grey shirt. There was no way in hell he was ever going to wear a bowtie. Instead, he complimented his look with a red necktie that was neither too dark nor too light against the shirt. 

Aziraphale exited the bedroom and stopped upon seeing Crowley. He was dressed in a Victorian style tux with tails in cream with a white shirt. Crowley smiled to see the light blue and beige tartan bowtie because some things were just pure Aziraphale. 

“Hi,” he said simply to him. “Ready?”

He offered Aziraphale his arm and they headed downstairs. The angel stood in the east, just like Crowley requested, the demon facing him, both of them surrounded by the flower arrangements and bathed in the light that came through the skylight overhead. Aziraphale had arranged for a little more light than usual to come filtering through just for this occasion.

“Ummm, I’m not sure how to do this, but here it goes . . .” Aziraphale smiled that nervous smile of his and pulled out that small velveteen box. “I fell in love with you that night seventy-eight years ago when you saved my books from being destroyed. Really, I think I loved you for a lot longer than that, I just couldn’t bring myself to realize it. Millennia, even. But I was stubborn. I do now realize what I feel, what I have, and I give all that love to you. Crowley, I assure you that you’ll never walk alone again.”

He pulled out the ring and slipped it on Crowley’s left ring finger. The demon smiled as he saw it.

“My turn? Ok, I couldn’t think of anything elegant to say or anything, so here it goes . . . I think I’ve loved you since Eden, if you believe in that love at first sight stuff. I’m not sure. I’ve never been able to fully understand when it happened, why it did or express it, to be honest. Maybe I could if I never Fell. Hell changes you. But you were the one person in world who has the ability to help change me back. I would have never loved without you.” 

Crowley took Azirphale’s left hand and placed upon it a gold band with three small stones embedded in it – two blue diamonds surrounding a white one. Etched on either side of the blue diamonds were angel wings. Aziraphale almost teared up. 

“It’s beautiful.”

“Mine is, too. Thank you.” Crowley pulled Aziraphale in for a kiss and a long embrace. “I think you can consider us married now. If you’re wanting the whole state-sanctioned, head down to whatever governmental department does weddings, you can forget it, angel. I think you need a birth certificate for that and I misplaced mine long ago.”

Aziraphale laughed and kissed his demon very deeply this time.

~*~*~

Aziraphale served the food this time, feeling that it was way past time he did little things like for Crowley instead of expecting Crowley to do them for him. This time he was setting on the table a nice lobster bisque. Waiting in the wings for the next courses were spinach soufflé, shrimp with buerre blanc a nicoise salad and crepes filled with chocolate mousse. French foods they both enjoyed. Maybe it wasn’t the most orthodox of menu combinations, but it was not like they were serving it at a five-star restaurant.

They ended up feeding the crepes to each other on the couch, something Crowley never imagined doing in his life. But there he sat, cuddled up next to his former Enemy doing cute stuff while wearing the wedding rings they gave to each other. They didn’t need a certificate from the some governmental office or God’s approval to be married. They just had to declare it themselves. So they did. And Crowley found it wasn’t bad at all. Aziraphale had just pledged himself to him. After the struggles the angel went through coming to terms with his love for a demon, this was significant. More than Crowley had realized, thus he loved his angel even more for it.

“So, now what?” asked Crowley as the crepes were finished off, Aziraphale leaning up against him. 

“What would you say about Paris? Should we book a hotel there and have a bit of a honeymoon?”

“I don’t mind France. Good wine. Good food. Not going to a tour of Gothic cathedrals with you.” There was a bit of a pause as Crowley’s eyes unfocused for a moment. “Done. We have a suite at the best hotel in Paris for as long as we want it.”

“Crowley! Seriously?” Aziraphale was slightly scandalized by Crowley’s inability to play by the rules. “Can’t we just call in the morning and book the normal way like is fair?”

“How do you think we’re going to get passports? Just outright tell them we weren’t exactly born and when we did come into existence, it was before Time began so we have no clue exactly how old we are? Oh, are you taking my last name or am I taking yours? That might be useful to know for the passports I’m going to conjure up with some airline tickets.” Crowley grinned before he slithered over to kiss his spouse, who was still frowning at him half-heartedly.

The conversation ceased for a long time.

~*~*~

“I’m going to scratch my own eyes out now. These things are uncomfortable,” complained Crowley, who thanks to the wonders of coloured contacts, was sporting a pair of apple green eyes with round pupils.

Aziraphale sighed as they wound their way through the airport. “You just have to wear them on the plane. It’s not my fault they don’t allow sunglasses on passport pictures or while going through security. Unless you just want to start telling people you have a medical condition in your eyes.”

“I wish I could put a glamour on them.”

“Well, you can’t. We’re probably lucky that contacts don’t burn away thanks to your curse. Come here.” Aziraphale stopped and reached over to lightly brush Crowley’s eyelids. “There. That should take away the itchiness. You can pop them out as soon as we’re at the hotel.”

They made it through security and boarded without further complaints from Crowley. Aziraphale took the window seat since the demon planned on sleeping through the flight. As fond as he was of humanity, he didn’t like being stuck on an airplane in business class with a crowd of them. Usually he just transported himself places when possible. But you had to have a good mental map of the where you were going or you might end up somewhere else and neither of them had been back to that area of France since the Reign of Terror. The geography had probably changed quite a bit, even for an old city like Paris. Next time they could just transport magically over there, if they visited again in a shorter span of time.

“Really? You’re going to nap? The entire flight’s around an hour and fifteen minutes,” Aziraphale commented, but didn’t say another word when Crowley shrugged. 

“There was no first class, so yes. I’m packed in here with lots of other people and I don’t like it. Would you rather I complained the whole time?"

So Aziraphale read the entire way, Crowley cat napping on his shoulder. Eventually they landed, manoeuvred their way through the airport, then took a taxi to their hotel, which was a more extravagant suite than Aziraphale thought necessary, but he knew Crowley demanded a certain level of luxury. 

“I don’t care what you want to do, but I’m not doing the catacombs,” said Aziraphale firmly as he levitated his suitcase into the ridiculously sized closet in their suite after magically hanging his clothes on the hangers and putting them in drawers. “It’s just too hard to deal with all that death. It bothers my empathy so. And this suite is a bit over the top, my dear. I have standards, but . . .”

He looked around the large room with its four-poster bed and sitting room furniture off to the side. A closet big enough to house a vanity was on the right and down the short hall was a bathroom large enough to have a good-sized marble tub installed right in the middle of it. It was big enough for both of them, which gave Aziraphale ideas.

“You have standards and I make money out of raw firmament,” replied Crowley, kissing him. “So, I fail to see the problem. I’m going to go soak my ancient bones in that tub, if you want to join me.”

Aziraphale was at the balcony door breathlessly taking in the Left Bank panorama outside of it, including a spectacular view of the Eiffel Tower. Crowley smirked amusedly at him.

“Breathe, angel,” he said as he disappeared into the bathroom, already shedding clothing. “If you stop doing that in public, the humans are going to wonder why you don’t pass out.”

But Crowley didn’t seem to mind when Aziraphale joined him and spent an impossibly long time underwater not breathing while performing certain acts on him. He wrapped his legs around the angel’s hips and clung on to him as Aziraphale surfaced and slid into position seeking his own release.

~*~*~

The bed was wonderfully soft and had completely enveloped Aziraphale in its lushness. He stirred as he came to consciousness with his husband under the covers slowly licking and kissing a trail towards his bellybutton (there for the sake of blending in). 

“Good morning, handsome,” came the voice from beneath the duvet. “I just wanted to return last night’s favour in the bathtub. You’re _not_ going to interrupt me again, are you? I thought our wiling and thwarting days were over but I still have yet to suck you off.”

Aziraphale reddened at Crowley’s use of language and was glad the demon couldn’t see him. “Umm, no of course not.”

He reached down to caress that tousled hair as Crowley worked, licking first down one hip joint, then kissing finally where leg met torso. He felt a hand grasp his erect cock followed by the wetness of Crowley’s mouth, tight and hot as he sucked, pausing startled, when Aziraphale’s response was to thrust deeper into his mouth.

It didn’t take long for Crowley to turn the angel into a quivering, inarticulate mess of sensations. Aziraphale was definitely in sensory overload as he gripped Crowley’s hair so tightly the demon wondered if he’d find a bald spot upon inspection. Pleased with himself, he sucked harder, feeling the slight change as Aziraphale’s orgasm built inside his cock, then released a second later. One nice thing about being a demon was he was neither required to spit or swallow. It vanished as soon as it hit his mouth. 

“See?” said Crowley surfacing out of the bedcovers. “No need to stop me, is there?”

He snaked up to poke his tongue into the angel’s open mouth, wanting release himself. With a hand he guided eager parts of his body into waiting parts of Aziraphale’s. The entry was always something to savor. The bit of resistance there at the beginning followed by sliding into Aziraphale’s warmth and feeling that surround him so completely. He urged the angel to wrap his legs around him so he could get better leverage. 

Then he proceeded to make love to him as slowly, as gently as possible. Aziraphale’s hands traced along his back as Crowley closed his eyes and settled into a comfortable motion. Passionate kisses were swapped, both feeling the physical love that was being exchanged between them. Forehead against forehead, Crowley came gently, moaning slightly rather than with the loud, frenzied moans he normally let out. His eyes were now open, staring at the perfect sky blue eyes right in front of him the best he could at the extremely close distance. Aziraphale gasped, his pupils dilating in response to his own orgasm then his eyes closed in pleasure.

Crowley remembered the last time they were in Paris . . . Notre Dame . . . cognac . . . the touch of fingers against wings . . . fingers trying to find their way to certain places . . . what he had to do afterwards. A couple of tears escaped his eyes, splashing onto Aziraphale’s cheek. No. That was the past. It could be forgotten now.

“Are you ok?”

“Oh yeah, just some sweat. Here let me clean that up.” Crowley quickly shut down his negative emotions and snuggled in now that he wished everything dry with a thought. “Should we do room service or find ourselves a nice place to get breakfast?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I linked this story to "An Angel in the Bastille" (and by proxy all the fics in that series) because Crowley's guilt was just too delicious to not bring into play since I really couldn't address it in the Bastille story itself.


	11. Revelations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“I’ve spent my entire fucking existence being messed about by someone or another. I’m not sure how to handle this.” Crowley sat on the bed in human form now, perhaps more human than he had ever been._
> 
> _Aziraphale was back to his usual look, eyes puffy and tired-looking from the emotional toll these recent revelations were having on both of them. He had been looking out of the balcony, but had decided to join Crowley on the bed, crawling into it like a child lost. They sat together on edge, arms around each other, heads touching._
> 
> What exactly did happen during Lucifer's Revolt? Why is God telling them now?

“That’s new,” commented Crowley as he stood in front of the Eiffel Tower embracing his slightly shorter husband from behind.

“It’s been here since 1889.” Aziraphale was looking up information on the mobile Crowley convinced him to get before the trip.

“Blink of an eye for us,” replied Crowley. “Olllllder than Tiiiiime, remember?”

“You’re incorrigible.”

“You married me.”

“Don’t make me regret it.”

Crowley kissed him on the cheek. Aziraphale turned his head to give him one on the lips. 

“You won’t,” said the demon. “Shall we get tickets to go to the top or should we wing it up there tonight under the cover of some wished-up invisibility?”

“I don’t know. It doesn’t look like there’s much space at the top to get comfortable. Let’s just get tickets.”

Some time later, they were at the top, overlooking the breathtaking view of the Parisian cityscape. Aziraphale took photo after photo on his mobile while Crowley just stood next to him, arm curled around his waist. 

“Worth it?” he purred in the angel’s ear.

“Very much so. The company makes it more worth while.”

They headed back down to sightsee some more, wandering for hours around the city. Aziraphale stopped in shock to stare at Notre Dame, wounded by the recent fire. Crowley took his hand as they stood there on the bank looking at the devastation. Tents in front of the cathedral housed debris recovered as workers cleared away the damage. The twisted remains of the lead roof left the interior of the cathedral open to the sky. Aziraphale gazed at it, sobered.

“I remember when we sat up there drinking before we returned to London. I think that’s the only time I’ve ever passed out from alcohol.”

Crowley felt a twinge of guilt again. “Between the Bastille, the threat of execution and the encounter with less-than-friendly Parisians, I’m not surprised.”

“I wouldn’t call what you had an ‘encounter’.”

“Let’s move on. This is supposed to be a honeymoon and I’m becoming depressed.” Crowley decided he would rather not think about 1793. Here and now was nice. 

“I didn’t think Notre Dame would concern you that much,” replied Aziraphale as they strolled off to find the nearest metro station.

“No, thoughts of the Reign of Terror. Investigating the whole guillotine thing. I don’t want to remember the smell of blood.” It was half-truth, Crowley admitted to himself. “Notre Dame’ll be rebuilt, angel. I see no reason to get worked up over it. It’s a church and it’s not like I’m holy.”

He couldn’t ever tell Aziraphale the truth. What he did was done out of kindness to save the angel’s pure soul. Saying something two hundred years later on what amounted to their honeymoon would just be catastrophic. It would serve no purpose other than upset him.

“All right, love.” Aziraphale squeezed his hand. “Let’s go find some lunch, and I won’t suggest crepes.”

After lunch they found themselves at the Louvre, taking in the art and asking each other if they ever met the artist. They discovered one, the other or both had met quite a tidy sum of the artists represented at the museum.

Crowley was more critical of the condition of some of the works than Aziraphale, who patiently followed along, enjoying what humans had managed to save over time without commenting how certain statues looked better with arms and/or a head. 

When they passed a sign pointing to “La Joconde,” Crowley rolled his eyes behind his sunglasses. “The drawing I bought off Leonardo is so much more superior to what he ended up painting.”

And off he stalked with Aziraphale in tow to look at something that held his interest more. Aziraphale just kept his amusement to himself, allowing Crowley to decide what they would view here and what was worth skipping.

They ended up in an argument with a young man in his twenties about Canova’s Psyche Revived. Or Crowley did, more like it. Aziraphale wasn’t up to arguing in French with anyone, let alone about the puny size of Cupid’s wings. Crowley’s spoken French was still flawless, but Aziraphale was never good at really learning languages he didn’t speak on a daily basis, except in written form. Crowley picked up spoken language easily. The angel figured it was a response to Crowley’s job of tempting and the need to be constantly on his toes to keep himself out of trouble.

Crowley had just criticized how the artist had sculpted Cupid’s wings within the hearing of an apparently bilingual young man who, figuring those two English blokes wouldn’t realize he was making fun of Crowley’s criticism, muttered something he thought was quiet or wouldn’t be understood anyway. Crowley jumped on him in response, speaking in French so grammatically flawless and perfectly accented one would think he was born in Paris.

Aziraphale picked up bits and pieces here and there of the conversation that was about how Crowley thought Cupid’s wings were stupidly placed on his shoulders and extremely small for a flying being. The young man chalked it up to artistic expression plus the fact there was only so much marble block to carve.

“Besides,” the young man scoffed in his native French. “What do you know about flying?”

“More than you realize,” replied Crowley replied in that same tongue before taking Aziraphale’s hand once again and walking off.

A large shiny black secondary feather the size of the man’s arm drifted to the ground from nowhere. He picked it up, puzzled, looking at it for a split second before it vanished into nothingness.

“Will you not moult all over the museum, please? We’re not here to start conspiracy theories,” scolded Aziraphale. “You did a good enough job of that letting all those people see your wings the last time we were in Paris.”

“It made for a quiet lunch once they all stampeded out.”

Aziraphale conceded that point. He hadn’t minded at all at the time. They continued on their tour until finally the demon grew bored and just wanted to go back to the hotel. Right now.

A moment later they were standing on the balcony, looking at the Eiffel Tower bathed in evening light. Crowley nuzzled Aziraphale, wanting so much to remove every piece of clothing from the angel right here, right now, the rest of the city out there in view be damned. But he knew Aziraphale would have something to say about that. Crowley wasn’t an exhibitionist himself; he simply didn’t give a damn because it wasn’t like they couldn’t camouflage themselves. But the angel would always be paranoid someone had somehow seen.

“I needed to get away for a bit. That prat was just driving me crazy.” That was as close as Crowley got to a real apology. “We can catch our breath – so to speak – and then head out to a nice dinner.”

“Mind if I read a bit?” asked Aziraphale. “It’s our holiday together and I don’t want to do anything that. . . well . . . you know how I get when I read.”

Crowley laughed. “Go ahead. I’ll entertain myself with my mobile, no problem.”

Aziraphale read his newest acquisition on the book app he had installed (or had Crowley install more like it) on his mobile, sitting on the end of the couch. Crowley sprawled across it, head in Aziraphale’s lap checking out fancy restaurants to take his husband to when they were ready for dinner. He found the perfect one and used a wish to reserve a table for whenever they were ready.

Neither one of them realized when they drifted off to sleep.

~*~*~

_Everything was in turmoil. Lucifer had drawn to him a small but loyal group of disgruntled angels upset over their lot in life who were making everything in Paradise rather unpleasant. No fighting had broken out to date, but tension was rising rapidly. The Almighty was not addressing it, instead deciding to stay confined to Her personal area of Heaven where no others were allowed without Her invitation._

_The angels found it confusing that She would do that and many felt abandoned in this time of unrest. Now is when they needed the leadership of their Creator more than ever before. Many questioned why this was happening, a dangerous activity as obedience was required by the higher ranks. You did your job and did it without wondering why they asked you to. Angels were not to exercise free will. It was said that went against God’s purpose in their Creation._

_Angels were created with a variety of abilities and powers, and were physically different from one another from very dark-skinned ones to extremely fair. Eye colours were a veritable rainbow, too – browns, greens, ambers, blues and violets. Hair colours ranged from purest black to lightest brown, with two exceptions – there was exactly one angel with red hair and exactly one with blond hair. Nobody seemed to know why._

_They didn’t seem that special. The blond was merely a Principality, currently in charge of recording Heaven’s history on scrolls so such knowledge would never be lost. He seemed content with that, staying well out of the way of any of the rabble rousers. The redhead was a Virtue, charged first with creating stars, planets and other celestial bodies, then put on plant duty with some of the others in preparation of the Garden. He loved making stars. Plants were interesting and he liked them, but they didn’t quite compare to building in the vast expanse of the universe._

_The blond scribe, clothed in his robe of light blue, went about his business, only coming out of the building where scrolls were written and stored when he needed to witness happenings or gather information from first-hand sources. In this time of unrest he kept mostly to himself, walking with head down, sky blue eyes trained on the ground before him, arms curled around his chest in a gesture that screamed how uncomfortable he was with the whole situation. The rebels left him alone. He didn’t do anything more than stammer out something unintelligible then hurry away whenever he ran into them. There was no way he was going to join their side._

_The green-robed gardener seemed a different story. He was curious, filled with a sense of wonder and discontent with constant lectures from his superiors on keeping within the recognized rules about what constituted a “plant.” A few of the rebels attempted communication with him, but he seemed only interested in having questions answered, not the eventual plan of taking up arms against Heaven. He’d roll his amber eyes when asked about it saying he really wasn’t a fighter._

_Such action would normally mark an angel for removal as soon as the fighting started because the insubordinates would be nothing but trouble no matter what side they were on, but the rebels left him off that list. The fact that he was developing a skeptical side made him worth picking at in hopes he’d change sides and cooperate._

_It wasn’t long before the red-haired angel heard that fighting broke out around the edges of the Realm. He kept to the experimental gardens where the plants for the Garden made on Earth were being created before the Almighty transferred them down there. Ignoring the news that both rebellious angels and anyone who didn’t conform to established standards were being pushed by Heaven’s Army into exile, he got on with making a variety of vining plants as if everything was normal._

_The scribe stayed in his library, writing down what he heard from the others, who ventured out once in a while. He prayed the Almighty would end things soon because the history he was recording was becoming increasingly divisive._

_But She didn’t._

_The gardener was flushed out of his sanctuary one day (if “day” could even be used since Time had not began yet) when the rebels entered the garden to empty it and destroy the plants created._

_“That’s my work in there!” he fumed at the rebel angel who marched him out at swordpoint._

_“I remember you. You used to create stars,” the rebel replied. “And now look at you. Creating plants for the future humans to enjoy. Why do you follow orders?”_

_“I like plants.”_

_“It’s said you’re not exactly good at following the established rules when it comes to creating them. Tells me you’re bored. You’d rather be up in the firmament building worlds. That’s free will you want. That’s what Lucifer is offering us. Imagine . . . being able to create anything at your own will.”_

_“I’m not fighting anyone.”_

_“Not even for the chance to decide your own fate? Do you want to be a slave forever? That’s all angels are.”_

_The redhead gestured to the weapons and other angels being forced to make choices at the point of a sword. “And this is right? You’re telling us to join you or die! Where’s the free will there?”_

_And he was struck down by the one threatening him. A burning slash split his skin open diagonally from left shoulder to right hip bone, driving in deep beneath his rib cage. If he was human, internal organs would have been severely damaged, instead what passed for angels’ blood spilled out onto the street beneath his feet. He collapsed with a sob, his wounds deep enough he could feel his life ebbing away. It terrified him. It was talked about how the humans who were coming would have souls and get to live in Heaven when they died. Nobody said what happened to the immortal beings who were killed by their wayward brethren._

_He lay there, sobbing, in more pain than he have ever known in his lifetime, writhing on the pavement in a manner that rubbed pristine white feathers from his extended wings. Whatever happened now, he wouldn’t be around for long to enjoy or regret it. His molecules were literally coming undone; he could feel it._

_A blond head swam into view, blurred by the pain to the point he couldn’t make out any facial features. He reached out to the apparition, hoping it was real. “Help . . . me.”_

_The figure paused._

_“What are they doing?” the blond scribe choked out, kneeling beside the wounded angel. It was the red-haired Virtue, he noticed. He’d seen him around, thanks to that unusually coloured hair of his, but never had talked to him. “Oh dear, you’re not going to make it if I don’t do something. We need to get out of here. I’ll help you stand. There’s a building nearby we can go in.”_

_The Principality carefully helped the Virtue to his feet, half carrying/half dragging him to safety inside the building twenty or so meters away. It was slow going. The Virtue had lost a lot of his life force and could barely stumble along. Those heavy, limp wings hindered the process. But fighting was still close making staying on the street impossible without potentially attracting the wrong kind of attention._

_They were barely inside when the Principality worked healing magic that knitted severed veins and skin back together. The Virtue hissed a bit feeling nerves reconnect, but he kept still and let the Principality work._

_“Thank you,” he said, his amber eyes solemn. “You’d better get back to wherever you came from before they find you because they’ll kill you for healing me. I’ll be right behind you.”_

_The Principality nodded, his face pale with fright. He peered out the door then made a run for it, the beneficiary of his healing watching until the blond head disappeared from view. The Virtue stayed there a bit longer in an attempt to gain back some strength._

_Running back to the library and thinking the red-haired angel had taken a different path to safety, the Principality was stopped halfway to his destination by a figure who stepped directly into his way, carrying a flaming sword._

_She was unusual for an angel, a veil covering Her grey hair, radiating divinity like no one he had come across before. And Her eyes! They were completely black with multi-coloured nebulas serving as pupils._

_Realization dawned on him and he bowed, going down on one knee. She pulled him to his feet._

_“No. There’s no time for that. We need to go because I need you safe.” She was now running along, towing him along behind Her towards the exit that led to Earth._

_Wings unfurling, they glided to the physical plane, the lushness of the Garden coming into view as they approached. Landing in the green grass, surrounded by many of the Virtue’s creations, She thrust the sword at him._

_“You will stay here until this is all over. You need to be out of harm’s way because you’re one of the keys to saving all I have created. You won’t smite him like the others would, but be the only immortal being who will ever show him kindness again. You’ll befriend him and you’ll help him avert the Apocalypse. You’re one half of My hope, Aziraphale. Take My Blessing with you.”_

_With that She kissed his forehead, causing him to fall into a deep sleep under a tree, protected from view. Here he would stay until the humans who slumbered nearby awakened. Upon awakening, he’d remember nothing of his encounter with the Virtue or Her. He would think that he was stationed here to guard the apple tree that was to come. That’s what they all would think; none would have any memory of him during the Rebellion beyond holing up in his library writing about it._

_She felt an immense amount of guilt treating him this way, but he had the better end of the deal. It would break Her heart what fate She had to leave Her Virtue to._

_Feeling better, the Virtue in question poked his head out of the building, wondering if it was safe to leave. His eyes lighted on a female angel wearing a veil over Her head standing there like She was waiting for him. She held out Her hand._

_“They’ll kill you.”_

_“They already tried. The blond-haired Principality healed me.”_

_“No, Heaven’s Army,” She replied. “They already are pushing the skeptics over the edge of the Realm or outright running them through with swords if they feel they’re a real threat. You’d be seen as a threat.”_

_She grieved to see Her angels so out of control but if the world was to have a chance at being saved, She could not act. The most She could do was make sure Her saviors were safe and hope they set themselves upon the right path. If they did, then Her last acts before withdrawing to exile would be to awaken the human race, then later banish them from the Garden. If the Fall of Humanity didn’t happen, She would have to accept Her one-in-a-million chance had passed and the world She created would end._

_It would all come down to the choices these two had to make of their own free will. All she could do was metaphorically drop two stones in the water and hope the ripples they made were of the right variety to bring about change._

_“Take My hand, we must go,” she said to the Virtue. “You must Fall. It’s the only way you’ll survive this.”_

_The Virtue looked shocked. “I’d rather die than become one of them. I might not fit in well here, but it’s better than being exiled from Heaven. I’m not one of them.”_

_“You’re the other half of My hope,” She replied, taking his hand in an iron grip. She looked at him with tears in Her unusual eyes. “You’re to make humanity Fall. Six thousand years later, you’ll make sure the Antichrist grows up normal so that he doesn’t end the world. You’ll suffer, but you’re so very important because you’ll save humanity.”_

_He stared at Her, looking vulnerable and scared. “No . . .”_

_“It’s the one future I see that saves my Creations. I’m sorry, Anthos. I’ll make sure your reward in the end will be great.” She temporarily willed away his ability to resist. It would be the last time anyone would call him by the name She gave him._

_With that She pulled him to the edge and they flew over. Around them, the Fallen screamed as they tumbled towards the Pit. She sobbed openly as she glided down with her Virtue, who felt none of the pain of his demonic brothers and sisters._

_Disguising Herself as just another Fallen angel, She put him to sleep and laid him gently on the ground. His angel form shimmered, forming itself into a large black and red snake. She bent to kiss him like She did his counterpart in the Garden, placing Her lips against his scaly head. He wouldn’t remember these events, just as his counterpart wouldn’t. He’d remember Falling for asking questions and having the wrong friends._

_“I’m sorry about the curse. You don’t deserve the punishment but I’ll need to discourage the others from such acts. Go with My Blessing.”_

_Outwardly crying as Her heart broke, She promised someday they’d find each other and develop the strongest bond formed between two of Her Creations. Nothing could destroy that bond._

_“I’m sorry Aziraphale and Crowley. I’m sorry what I had to put you through. But you deserve to know now and you deserve a reward. I grant you immortal souls, so that neither hellfire nor holy water will destroy you. They won’t even be able hurt you now. If your human bodies die, your souls will come to My place of exile where a new body will be waiting for you. Consider it My wedding gift. Now delight in each other. Nobody can tear you two apart.”_

~*~*~

In a hotel room in Paris, an angel with folded white wings dressed in a white robe with gold embroidery embraced a giant black and red snake coiled around his torso. Their forms had responded to the shared dream, becoming what they once were. The angel sobbed, tears streaming down his face. The snake, unable to cry, clung silently to the angel, rubbing his head in a reasonable approximation of a stroking motion on the angel’s blond curls in an attempt to comfort.

~*~*~

“I’ve spent my entire fucking existence being messed about by someone or another. I’m not sure how to handle this.” Crowley sat on the bed in human form now, perhaps more human than he had ever been.

Aziraphale was back to his usual look, eyes puffy and tired-looking from the emotional toll these recent revelations were having on both of them. He had been looking out of the balcony, but had decided to join Crowley on the bed, crawling into it like a child lost. They sat together on edge, arms around each other, heads touching.

“I’m trying to be ok with this. I really am, but even the gifts She gave us don’t make up for having memories wiped or being used like a chess piece on some grand world-saving level,” Crowley continued. “Yet I can’t be angry. It’s just too exhausting and time consuming anymore.”

“What are we?”

“Upgraded angel stock, I assume. Well, demon stock in my case.”

“Do I really have an immortal soul now?”

“Yes, I can see it. It’s bloody bright, angel. No tarnish on it like on human souls.” Crowley was glad it took a bit of magic to see souls because otherwise he’d never be able to look at Aziraphale again, it was so blindingly shiny.

“Why do we need such souls?” Aziraphale was in shock, not registering that he knew the answers to the questions he was asking.

“Holy water and hell fire can’t hurt those. And apparently She’s going to use them to pull us to her Realm if we ever need new bodies.” Crowley waved a hand towards the bathroom and the sound of the tub filling drifted out. “I can’t do this. God doesn’t just give people wedding gifts. I need a bath.”

He got up and walked to the bathroom, watching the marble tub fill, wondering if he should try to entice Aziraphale to join him so he wouldn’t be alone. No need; he felt the angel envelop him in his arms from behind and he responded by reaching up to lightly run fingers down Aziraphale’s cheek. 

Crowley stripped off the black jeans and dark grey shirt he was wearing and climbed in, beckoning to Aziraphale to join him. The angel obliged him, waving a hand to add his favourite vanilla-scented bubble bath first. Normally Crowley forbade him from adding such things to the water if they were bathing together, but this time he tolerated it for Aziraphale’s sake. He was obviously in need of as much comfort as he could get.

Aziraphale was kneeling in the tub, facing him, his sky blue eyes cloudy and troubled. He traced a short yet significant scar that slashed across Crowley’s stomach where the deepest wound caused by the rebel’s sword had been. It had always been there, eventually showing up in every new body, the same as Crowley’s cursed eyes, after a few days of his spirit inhabiting it. Crowley always thought it was the result of a newly minted demon in early days of Hell freaking out upon seeing his snake form and kicking him halfway to Tuesday – metaphorically speaking since “Tuesday” had yet to be invented. He was left with a nice-sized wound in his side. He figured his morphic field hadn’t quite settled at the time thanks to the new form, making the scar a permanent part of his make-up. Now he saw the scar and the place he was kicked didn’t line up at all. They were nowhere close to each other. It was just a cover for the truth he didn’t remember.

A magenta glow surrounded the scar as Aziraphale traced a finger down his torso in a diagonal direction to his right hip, the glow spreading to show exactly where the sword of the rebel sliced through Crowley’s skin so long ago before Time began. It was the magic of a weapon created to maim and kill ethereal spirits. Residual magic like that didn’t go away, so the whole gash was now glowing, scarred or not. Tears hit the portions of it that weren’t underwater.

“I met you. I _healed_ you.”

“I know. It’s not your fault you didn’t remember,” replied Crowley. “Here, turn around. Sit down against me and let me pamper you. I apparently owe you big because otherwise I wouldn’t be here.”

The last sentence was said lightly in an attempt at humor. It wasn’t enough. He hugged his angel close, feeling the sobs that shook his body. She meant to give them a gift and reveal the truth they deserved to know. This probably wasn’t part of the plan – upsetting the angel She wanted to make amends to. 

“Why didn’t You just stay out of this?” he muttered under his breath, hoping Aziraphale didn’t hear him.

The demon sighed. He understood the angel’s reaction. If he hadn’t have made peace with his lot in life a long time ago, he’d be angry at God telling him he was nothing more than a sacrificial lamb with a part to play in some plan played on a cosmic level, even if She was upset about the whole situation as well. But it was like he said to Aziraphale earlier – anger anymore was too exhausting and time consuming. It was time to move on and actually be happy. Everything they had ever wanted had fallen into place after six thousand years on Earth.

He carefully shampooed Aziraphale’s hair, knowing how much he enjoyed the touch, wishing away the sweet-smelling shampoo when he was done because it was easier than trying to rinse it with two people in the tub to work around. He buried his face in Aziraphale’s clean, now-dry hair, enjoying the closeness as much as the smell. 

“Focus on the positive, Aziraphale, my angel. We have everything we could ever want. It’s time for our fairy tale to begin.”

“I don’t know how you manage to keep your faith when I have a hard time anymore holding on to mine. You continue to surprise me, my love.”

“All you need is faith in us.” Crowley snaked his arm over Aziraphale’s shoulder, taking the hand the angel brought up to meet his and giving it a squeeze. “We can survive anything. Look, we already have.”

“True, my dear.”

Then they fell silent, staying there quietly cuddled up in the bubbles until they all popped and the water went cold. 

Aziraphale took himself off to the bedroom while Crowley towel-dried his hair in front of the bathroom mirror. He paused a moment, his eyes shifting to a golden amber color with a round pupil and he felt the curse he’d carried since Earth’s beginnings lift. He stared at the eyes he possessed in Heaven for a moment or two, but with a sigh, he shifted them back to the familiar yellow snake eyes he’d had since Eden. Aziraphale was processing a lot right now. He’d keep this to himself until the time was right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so I don't get a bunch of notes on Crowley being a dick about hiding the lifting of his curse, yes, he does tell Aziraphale in an upcoming chapter. :)


	12. Form Follows Function

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Out of energy, he curled up on the couch to sleep more not even waking up in time to make dinner. Aziraphale shook him gently awake later, concerned about his ravenous hunger and lack of energy._
> 
> _“Did someone put a draining spell on you or something?” he asked Crowley, clearly concerned._
> 
> _The demon sat up and stretched. “I don’t feel one, but if you want to double check, be my guest.”_   
>  _Aziraphale closed his eyes for a moment then shook his head. “No, I don’t feel a thing. What is going on with you?”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are moderated because I've been attacked over a character's gender presentation. I apologize for the inconvenience, but I'm not going to deal with that. Critiques presented in a polite manner are one thing, threatening someone because elements of a story are outside your comfort zone are another. Thanks for understanding!

They spent a week in Paris, Aziraphale recovering from the revelation they were given. He wanted to stay, determined to not turn their holiday/honeymoon into something tragic. 

They had crammed a lot into that week – Luxemburg Gardens where Crowley took in the many plant species, Shakespeare and Company where Aziraphale browsed books, art museums, shopping at the Bouquinistes, visiting every monument possible that didn’t happen to be a church or a reminder of Aziraphale’s stay at the Bastille. Currently they were strolling hand-in-hand down the Champs- Élysées, Aziraphale munching on some macaroons they bought at Ladurée. Crowley had enjoyed one or two, leaving the rest for the foodie angel.

“Anything else you want to do?” Aziraphale asked his demon.

“Nope. I’m good. You?”

“I think I’m ready to go home. We have things to figure out, like what to do with your flat.”

“I’ll rent it out. I really don’t want to sell it.” Even though he was no longer going to live there, he was rather attached to it.

They headed back to the hotel to pack and transport home, no airline tickets or passports necessary.

~*~*~

The newlyweds had settled down into a routine upon returning to London, getting used to their new life together and the gifts from the Almighty. Immortal souls got some getting used to as they could feel the power they gave off inside of themselves. They pulsed and writhed with a living energy of their own, a constant reminder that there was more than one way to be immortal. But the feeling dulled the more used to the presence of them they became. It still remained a strange thought that they were different – like some kind of hybrid between angel/demon and human. 

Crowley stared at the room in the bubble dimension at the back of the bookshop, pondering what to do with it. Should he leave it just in case? Or did he have enough faith in a dream to get rid of it? Eventually he walked away without taking any action. It wasn’t like it hurt having it sitting there out of the way on another plane. If the Almighty wanted him to get rid of it, She could tell him.

Getting back into the routine of things calmed Aziraphale down. He was back to puttering around the bookshop, reading, ordering, inventorying and generally doing everything he could to learn to sell a book now that the bookshop was his only source of income. Maybe now would be a good time for Crowley to mention his curse had been lifted. 

Crowley wasn’t sure how the angel would react – joy or anger that the Almighty didn’t do away with it sooner, not that She could. As long as he was a minion of Hell, there really was little anyone could do about it without arousing suspicion. God was not just going to lift the curse visited upon one of those unforgivable demons. Other demons would start questioning why.

One morning he spent longer than usual in the bathroom, switching between snake eyes and his original eye color. His amber eyes were more of a true gold tone – metallic and molten. His snake ones were more sunset golden yellow as opposed to metallic. He wondered if he could combine them out of curiosity – golden yellow with round pupils. Suddenly he was going through every color of the rainbow, finally settling back to his yellow shade with the snake pupils. They were familiar and Aziraphale didn’t know yet anyway.

Besides, he liked the sunglasses. They had very much become a form of armour for him over the many years.

Yet he should tell his husband. He couldn’t keep secrets from him anymore now that their lives were bound together. It had to end with what happened in Paris in 1793.

“Aziraphale!” he called. “Can you come here?”

The angel was overjoyed when he showed him and a bit puzzled when Crowley switched back to his snake-like ones. 

“Why keep the cursed eyes?”

“I am what I am,” Crowley replied simply. “They’ve been a part of me as long as I’ve lived on Earth. I’ll change them in pubic if needs be, but this is me, snake and all. I’m not ashamed of what I was, angel. What we both went through saved the world.”

Aziraphale gave him a loving kiss. “I understand, I think. But they’re your eyes so I’m not going to tell you what to do.”

“C’mon. Let’s go make some breakfast. In the mood for pancakes this morning?”

They headed for the kitchen where Crowley mixed up some batter and cooked up a stack of pancakes for both of them to enjoy. Aziraphale noticed when he set two plates at the table.

“Learned to like breakfast in Paris?” he asked, setting down silverware and mugs for tea and coffee.

“I’m starving lately,” replied Crowley, bringing over the stack he made along with some rashers. “I don’t know why.”

“Don’t tell me you’re going to go through another period where you have eat up before reverting to snake form to brumate and regenerate your powers.”

Crowley grinned sheepishly as he put pancakes on Aziraphale’s plate. “Um, yeah. That was a bit of a lie. You were just getting annoying and I wanted to take a much-needed nap.”

If looks could kill and Crowley was mortal, he would no longer be among the living. Aziraphale was far from amused. “You slept for a hundred years because you found me annoying. Why do I talk to you?”

“Because I’m not the raging prat I used to be?”

Aziraphale’s mood cooled down. “True. I forgive you, my dear. And back to the subject, what has gotten into you this morning?”

He was eyeing the amount of pancakes Crowley had piled on his plate. The demon shrugged. 

“I don’t know! I’m just hungry for a change. Maybe letting my body go a bit human is catching up with me.”

Aziraphale gestured at him with his fork. “You need to be cleaning up that flat so it can be rented out if that’s what you’re going to do.”

A bit irritated, Crowley snapped his fingers. “Done! It’s even listed with a property manager. They won’t remember where they got that listing but they’ll be happy to take the commission from it. I made sure they have my mobile number. I’ve been so tired these past few weeks that I just haven’t wanted to do it.”

He wolfed down his pancakes barely chewing as he did so. Aziraphale watched as he ate his in the civilized manner he ate every meal with, doing his best to refrain from making some kind of comment about Crowley swallowing his breakfast in a manner more appropriate to his snake form.

“I just feel like sitting around today. Are you going to open the bookshop? I might just camp out down there in a chair or something.”

Aziraphale miracled the breakfast mess away with a wave. “Again? Crowley, you’ve been so tired lately and you’re never going to get your energy back if all you do is sit around. You need to be doing things. Exercise helps people feel less tired. You could help me shelve things. Maybe you’ll find something interesting to read. Don’t think I haven’t caught you showing curiosity in a book or two. You’re not as allergic to reading as you say you are.”

It had been like this for two weeks now and frankly, Aziraphale was worried. This was not normal for a demon. He shouldn’t feel tired at all unless he had been expending massive amounts of his power.

Crowley gave him a peeved look. “No, I’m not allergic to reading. I just prefer newspapers and articles online. Things that don’t take too long to get through. Why is that such a problem?”

With that little outburst, he stalked out of the flat into the bookshop, Aziraphale staring after him really wondering what was bringing on this strange behavior of his. Shrugging it off, the angel decided to leave him alone for a while as he worked. He was starting to get the hang of this bookselling business, like actually ordering in books he wouldn’t mind parting with, putting reasonable prices on things and other such more business-savvy moves. 

Crowley might not have been above using his powers to create for them all the money they wanted, but Aziraphale’s moral compass was a little less selfish. He felt the need to actually earn his paycheck now that he wasn’t receiving celestial wages anymore. 

He managed to sell a few books before noon, proud of himself for being able to part with them. Of course all the ones he didn’t want to ever give up were hidden away upstairs now. Still, Crowley would have been pleased to hear he actually let books go out the door, but he hadn’t seen the demon all morning since he stormed out of the flat. Aziraphale knew he was around somewhere because if he reached out with a bit of magic, he could sense Crowley’s presence in the building. He withdrew when he felt it, feeling like maybe the demon just required a little privacy right now as he apparently was using a bit of magic to keep himself hidden. The angel didn’t worry about it. Sometimes Crowley needed alone time.

It was a successful day bookshop-wise in Aziraphale’s eyes, he thought later as he closed up shop for the night. He was selling books, learning to be helpful and keeping the odd smells at a minimum. Maybe he could do this after all. Hoarding wasn’t all there was to enjoying books. Maybe there was something to allowing people to buy them so they could enjoy them, too. Interesting concept, that. And it was making them money, even if technically he could leave the money making literally to his husband.

He looked down at his ring and smiled as he counted the money in the till. An older American couple visiting here had popped in during their shopping trip in Soho and the woman had commented on how lovely it was with those beautiful blue diamonds and angel wings.

“My husband picked it out for me,” Aziraphale had replied proudly. 

“He has good taste. I bet he’s a wonderful man,” the woman said as her husband perused poetry books. “I’ve always loved angels. I’ve got quite the collection back home of figures and pictures of them. I don’t know if they’re real, but it would be something to meet one, don’t you think?”

Aziraphale smiled at her. “Well, my dear lady, I think that if they are real, one day you will.” He patted her shoulder, giving her and her husband a little blessing even though he was no longer part of Heaven.

He had decided he didn’t need a side to keep doing good deeds. The opinions of the current leadership of Heaven did not matter as he knew he was very much in God’s good graces. The side of the Almighty was the only one that was truly significant. 

Their lives had been such a whirlwind and had finally calmed down almost ten months after the failed Apocalypse. Crowley had been right. It was time to just be happy.

~*~*~

Crowley had never felt this tired in his entire life despite not doing anything more than staying out of the way of Aziraphale and his customers. Making himself invisible, he curled up in a chair to play on his mobile until he regained energy but just ended up falling asleep for hours. Once he roused enough to sense Aziraphale looking for him, but the angel withdrew as if secure in knowing his husband was somewhere in the bookshop. Crowley didn’t mind. He sure didn’t feel much like talking right now.

He dragged himself reluctantly upstairs when his stomach demanded food mid-morning to nibble an English muffin or two with some tea. After that, he had a bit of energy, which he used to tidy the lounge a bit since Aziraphale tended to leave small messes everywhere. Then he collapsed on the couch to play some games on his mobile before deciding to throw together a quick ploughman’s lunch.

Ravenous, he devoured his portion like he was fully human and hadn’t had a bite to eat in days. What was going on? Worried now, he left Aziraphale’s share in the fridge then stared out the window a bit wondering what could go wrong to cause such tiredness and hunger. He was essentially an infernal spirit. The body was superfluous to his existence. Helpful for living on the physical plane, yes, but technically unnecessary. There was no disease or injury he could catch would affect his spirit, just the physical body. He technically did not require oxygen, food or sleep. If worst came to worst, an injury or disease he couldn’t heal in time might cause him to shuffle off the mortal coil he was wearing, but the immortal spirit that was his true form would survive.

Out of energy, he curled up on the couch to sleep more not even waking up in time to make dinner. Aziraphale shook him gently awake later, concerned about his ravenous hunger and lack of energy.

“Did someone put a draining spell on you or something?” he asked Crowley, clearly concerned. 

The demon sat up and stretched. “I don’t feel one, but if you want to double check, be my guest.”

Aziraphale closed his eyes for a moment then shook his head. “No, I don’t feel a thing. What is going on with you?”

Crowley’s long fingers were reaching for Aziraphale’s trousers, looking to unbutton them. “Right now? I really, really want to fuck you. How’s that sound?”

Aziraphale’s brow wrinkled in concern. “Weird, just like the rest of what’s been going on with you these last few days.”

But he found himself backed against the wall with Crowley pinning his arms behind him using one hand and the wall to keep them in place. So _that_ was the kind of mood Crowley was in. Aziraphale attempted to resist, but he found himself giving in as Crowley aggressively kept him trapped against the wall, leaving slightly painful bite marks on any exposed skin his teeth could reach. Sometimes he loved it when Crowley took the lead. Yet one of these times he also wanted to try out being in charge.

“Ow! Watch how hard you’re biting,” Aziraphale mumbled, squirming a bit in desire at the attention his husband was showering on him.

“Sorry, angel.”

Clothes were gone. Foreplay was not going to be much if Crowley was that impatient but that didn’t concern Aziraphale as much as how Crowley was presenting right now and apparently not realizing it. He was staring fully at a pair of breasts. 

“Crowley, my dear . . .”

“I need to get laid. Can we worry about that later?” Fully expressing as female, Crowley dragged Aziraphale to the bed where she1 pinned him down by the wrists and rode his hardness through several orgasms before slowing down.

It did feel good, Aziraphale thought. Whatever parts Crowley happened to have, the sex was still wonderful. He lay there enjoying the wet silkiness of the Crowley’s current genitalia as she rocked against him and he thrust in response. He’d learned that love to him meant not caring what Crowley was sporting. Either way was pure heaven. The suddenness of this sexual encounter and the fierceness of Crowley’s need left him feeling just as frenzied as she was acting. Holding on much longer was going to drive him crazy. 

Breaking free of Crowley’s grasp, he grabbed her by the hips and guided her movements until she again shuddered in response. Something told him that maybe he should be doing some kind of play with those breasts, but he was at a complete loss as to what. It didn’t matter in the end, they were both too far gone to care exactly what happened as long as the correct parts were getting rubbed the right way. 

He rolled Crowley over, pinning her down for a change, aggressively thrusting as he nuzzled the crook of her neck before licking down to her sensitive nipples to lick, bite and suck until she writhed with passion. It wasn’t long before his own orgasm built, releasing into her as he felt her parts clench tighter around his cock. Aziraphale was glad the room was magically sound-proofed, given how loud his own shout was, not to mention Crowley’s high-pitched screams. Even the demon’s voice had gained few octaves with her transformation.

“Shit, why are they sore?” Crowley complained as she tried to lie down on her stomach across Aziraphale’s chest like she usually did after sex where she was on top. “Why do I have them? I’ve never had breasts unless I _wanted_ them.”

She flopped down on her back beside him, still touching. Aziraphale turned so he was on his belly, draped across Crowley’s stomach so he wasn’t touching sore places. He could see those serpentine eyes concentrating hard and he knew the demon was trying to change back to what she had.

It partially worked. A penis showed up in front of the vulva. Crowley gave Aziraphale a defeated look. The angel noticed she had slightly more feminine look to her features. The hardest angles were somewhat smoothed out, more like a face that had never been exposed to the same levels of testosterone a male person had been. She was still angular and had those defined cheekbones, they just appeared softer. She looked the same, yet different.

“Well, if you want a cock instead of a vagina, I can provide, but apparently my morphic field has decided to go more feminine without my input on it for some reason.” She snapped her fingers to make it disappear again. “Sorry. It feels really crowded down there to have both. I can manifest it when we need it. I hope you’re ok with this.”

“I’m not, but not for the reasons you think,” replied Aziraphale. “You’re tired all the time. You’re hungrier than I’ve ever seen you. Your morphic field has decided to involuntarily shift to female. We really need to figure this out . . .”

“It’s one thing after another,” Crowley complained. “I just want a bath right now. I itch for some reason. Probably because my shape isn’t stable.”

“We’re going to have to do a perception field around you, my dear.” Aziraphale sighed. “Everyone thinks I have a husband.”

A perception field would make everyone who saw Crowley and knew of her male form forget that, remembering her only as female. It was either that, or she’d be spending a lot of time hiding away upstairs while Aziraphale tried to explain why his husband wasn’t around much lately. Neighbours were close and rather nosy around here. As far as they knew, Aziraphale was part of a family who had owned the bookshop for generations since the early 1800s. People commented on how much he resembled his father. Nobody seemed to notice he never aged.

Aziraphale wondered if Crowley was having issues with the revelations of the Almighty and bottling it up, resulting in strange manifestations on her physiology. He decided to make it a point later to talk about it with his spouse.

Right now, he decided to convince Crowley to go get takeout with him. Or maybe just a night out at the Ritz. She really was in no condition to be cooking with the tiredness and form troubles. He was honestly as confused on how to handle this as the demon was.

~*~*~

The lift dinged, its doors sliding open on the bright white emptiness that was Heaven. This was a change from the old days when it resembled the more traditional city in the clouds. It had been a while.

Beelzebub exited, heading down the hallway towards the main area which was open, vast and bereft of anything interesting to look it. Even the windows, in which were reflected the various landmark buildings of Earth, were boring. What did they care about Earth’s architecture when they weren’t even that fond of Earth? Heaven had no taste.

Gabriel was waiting in the center of that open floor, an impressive model of a realistic turning Earth just behind him on one side. On the other were the three Archangel flunkies who accompanied him almost everywhere. 

“Any news?” asked Gabriel a little impatiently. The new alliance may have been beneficial, but that didn’t mean he had to like dealing with the denizens of Hell.

“It looks like it worked,” replied Beelzebub, adjusting the sash that had slid down a bit on her journey up here. Gabriel’s bespoke suit and pulled-together look made her feel self-conscious. 

“Has it? We’ve registered no changes in the former Principality known as Aziraphale.”

“They’re registering in the demon Crowley.”

Gabriel’s flunkies registered surprise and exchanged glances.

“We thought for sure it would be Aziraphale,” commented Michael. “No wonder we didn’t see any change.”

Beelzebub shrugged, hiding her contempt at Heaven’s naivety behind a blank look. Apparently this lot mistook “acting gay” for “feminine.” She knew it would be Crowley, who tended to be more fluid in gender presentation over the centuries than the exiled angel. 

“We’ll keep monitoring the situation and send you reports,” she turned to leave. “If this works out, it won’t be long before we have our weapon to restart the Apocalypse. It had better be worth it.”

“Oh, it will,” Gabriel replied, wishing Heaven had the ability to monitor demons the way it did angels. He still didn’t quite trust the Lord of the Flies.

But the spell, one that had never been used because there had never been two supernatural beings who had fallen in love, had apparently worked. Now to see if it would turn out successfully.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1 Yes, I'm going with "she," even though that's upset a few people because the change was involuntary. I did do research on gender and supernatural beings in "Good Omens" and best I can tell from Neil Gaiman's comments is that they really have no concept of gender like humans do. What they present as is what they are. For example, when Aziraphale's possessing Madam Tracy the correct pronouns for the angel are female, even though he didn't exactly choose to be a woman. Of course if you don't agree with that, you're free to substitute different pronouns or just not read further. I would appreciate it if the controversy stopped now. I'm trying to stay as canonical as possible, not offend someone because the views on gender in this story differ from theirs. It's been 2 days now and I'm tired of putting out fires. 
> 
> If you figure out what's up with Crowley, please don't say anything in the comments. Thanks!
> 
> [My Tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/theangelsflashbastard) if you're interested. It's new so there's not much up there yet. Feel free to message me there if you have suggestions or commentary that's best not left here. :)


	13. A First Time for Everything

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _With that, [Crowley] was gone. Racing to the bathroom before she ended up throwing up all over the floor again. Aziraphale felt they were missing something here. Something important._
> 
> Oh, yes. They are . . .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am putting comments back to unmoderated because the vast majority of you are awesome people who know how to properly leave constructive criticism (I've gotten my share of that on stories and I do appreciate it). Hopefully those who couldn't be polite have moved on.

Crowley put some pastries on the table along with a bowl of cereal that she placed in the spot where she normally sat. It had been a week since she went female and things were not changing back. They were learning to live with it for now. Aziraphale was hitting the books hard when the bookshop was closed, but nothing could be found. Crowley figured there was a first time for everything and they were on their own.

“Don’t expect bacon because the smell of it cooking makes me sick.”

With that, she was gone. Racing to the bathroom before she ended up throwing up all over the floor again. Aziraphale felt they were missing something here. Something important. 

He miracled up the ginger tea that seemed to calm Crowley’s stomach and headed to the bedroom where he knew she’d head after the bathroom. He’d be in there with her, rubbing her back and sending a bit of healing her way to at least ease the nausea but she’d just snap at him. It was embarrassing that a demon was throwing up like a human and completely unable to do anything about it other than endure it like a human. It was the last thing she wanted the angel to see.

“I thought You said we were supposed to be happy now!” Aziraphale heard from behind the closed door.

“Crowley, you know I don’t like it when you blaspheme,” he said as she emerged from the bathroom into the bedroom. 

“Then quit eavesdropping.” The demon flopped on the bed. “No thanks, angel. I don’t want any.”

Aziraphale set the proffered tea on the nightstand before curling up beside Crowley. “Want me to do a little healing?”

“Please?” Her voice’s tone told Aziraphale she was having a particularly bad spell this time. “This is how I felt when I got hangovers before I figured out how to remove the alcohol from my bloodstream. Very handy. Don’t know what I’d do without it.”

“Given the way you drink sometimes, probably discorporate from alcohol poisoning.”

That earned him a bit of a laugh. At least her spirits weren’t too low today. 

“We should head to the park. Feed the ducks,” Aziraphale suggested.

“Sure. We’ve both been hanging around here too long.”

So Aziraphale opened the bookshop for the morning while Crowley recovered upstairs. He checked on her around one o’clock, finding her more energetic than she had been recently. She was bored with playing around on her mobile and hacking into streaming services to find things to watch.

“I had to alter my clothes a bit,” she said, shrugging into her jacket made slightly different to accommodate breasts. “Since it looks like I’m going to be female-presenting for a while. I had to really alter my jeans. Female hips just aren’t made for male skinny jeans.”

“I don’t know what to tell you, my dear.” Aziraphale gave her a kiss. “But we’ll figure it out.”

Being female didn’t change Crowley’s driving habits one bit. There was still that sarcastic bit of road rage mixed with physics-defying moves that left Aziraphale in fear of discorporation. He thought he’d get over it after all these years. No such luck. He was starting to feel like he was going to throw up by the time they parked in an illegal spot close to the park.

It was windy out, but the sunshine kept the temperatures up as they strolled along holding hands. They stopped not far from the water’s edge baguette at the ready, ducks approaching greedily. Aziraphale carefully tore off pieces to toss in the water. Crowley never was much of an animal person, but she suspected Aziraphale kind of missed some of their old haunts and activities from when they were working for opposite sides, scheming to lessen their workload through the Arrangement and attempting to prevent the Apocalypse. 

“Do you miss it? The thwarting, good deeds, and all that?”

Aziraphale threw another few lumps of bread in the water with a sigh. “I must do at times. I know Hell was no picnic and you don’t miss it one bit, but I had friends in Heaven I’m never going to see again.”

Crowley nodded.

The angel smiled at his spouse. “But sometimes you have to do what’s right, even if it means you end up making sacrifices in the end. You’re the one person I couldn’t lose. I realize that now.”

Crowley snapped her fingers, rendering them invisible so they could romantically snog there at the pond’s edge without being gawked at by passersby. She didn’t know why, but that felt to her to be one of the most beautiful things Aziraphale had said to and about her.

“Even if I’m not the same right now?” It was eating away at her, especially since Aziraphale had always preferred male lovers and she . . . well . . . was no longer man-shaped. 

“Yes, even if you’re not the same. It’s you I love, not your parts.”

They walked some more, stopping to get ice cream because Crowley announced she was really craving it. Real ice cream, not the ice lollies she always got. And suddenly it struck Aziraphale so hard he was unsure how he didn’t see it sooner.

_It was sometime during the Renaissance when Aziraphale had been assigned to watch over a church in the south near Dover, but getting there had been quite the ordeal given he didn’t keep a horse at that time. He discreetly flew by night when possible, walking when weather or time of day kept him out of the sky._

_He was traveling along a dusty road made up of little more than two cartwheel ruts hoping beyond hope that over the next hill was the town. It was getting late, he was sick of being dirty, walking long distances and toting the few possessions he had these days in an old sack slung across his back. What he wanted more than anything was an inn where he could get a good meal followed by a bath in a private room where he could soak until he decided to let the water go cold._

_He missed his books and finery, all hidden away in a bubble dimension where Gabriel was none the wiser to Aziraphale still possessing them. Humble was the way to go, his boss had said, on some kind of poor-is-holy kick that thankfully did not last too long. Those on missions to Earth were no longer allowed luxuries. This truly rubbed Aziraphale the wrong way since he was the only one stationed there permanently. Everyone else got to go back up to their creature comforts in Heaven once their work was complete. He had taken to spending a lot time at Crowley’s decadent domicile._

_Angrily traveling along the road, thinking uncharitable thoughts about Gabriel, Aziraphale was not paying any attention until he found himself tumbling into a ditch, thrown there by a carriage coming through entirely too fast. Luckily for him, the farmer whose cart had just been passed by said carriage noticed and took Aziraphale home to recuperate from a bump to his head and various bruises._

_He found himself bundled up in a warm bed, covered in quilts with the farmer’s wife waiting on him for two days while having conversations with him when she was not busy._

_“I’m sorry to keep you from your chores, my dear lady,” he apologized the first night when she brought him some soup for supper._

_“Don’t you think anything of it. I’m actually happy to put off some of my tougher chores. They’re just so exhausting to do right now,” she replied. “I’m pretty sure I’m with child again. Only a couple of months along.”_

_“Oh? You’ll have to forgive me as I have no wife, but how do you know?” Aziraphale, always curious about how the human body worked, saw an opportunity to add to his knowledge._

_“Oh, it’s the tiredness that gets you at first,” she had replied. “Then about a month in, the morning sickness hits you. Except you’re feeling sick to your stomach all the time, not just in the morning. And I’m either getting irritated or crying. Plus I’ve had to let out my skirts again. My waist has started growing. And food. . . if I’m not getting sick off the smells of certain things, I’m craving others. I so want an apple right now and they’re not even in season. But I’m sure you’d like to hear of other things than my troubles. Did you know . . .” And she started off on local gossip._

_He remembered covertly blessing her before he left because there was one thing he did know and that was childbirth was dangerous for mother and baby. He could at least make sure this one had a happy ending for all involved._

“Hey, you ok, angel?” Crowley was shaking his shoulder as he stood there with his head in the past remembering information that would have been useful to know a couple of weeks earlier. “You look like you’ve been hit upside the head with the flat of your own flaming sword.”

His hand went to Crowley’s stomach, sliding down to just below her navel while he concentrated. Two spirits – Crowley’s, which obviously belonged in the body, and a newer one. Tiny, insubstantial, but there. Half infernal, yet half celestial, and immortal, it was in the process of creating itself. 

His look of panic concerned Crowley. “What is going on with you?”

“We can’t discuss this here,” he replied in low tones, trying not to sound like he was losing his composure, even though he was all but hyperventilating. “Let’s head home.”

“Ok, but we’ve only been here about forty-five minutes. What’s got you so upset?”

Crowley burned the ticket on the Bentley’s windscreen as she got in – somewhere the carbon copy of it in the traffic warden’s book disappeared as well – eyeing Aziraphale over her sunglasses. He didn’t talk the entire ride home, despite her prompting him, asking a question now and again. Finally she gave up, driving silently while Queen played on the stereo.

They made it back in record time.

“What is going on?” Crowley asked irritably the moment the front door shut behind them.

“How do you feel about becoming parents?”

“We’re not adopting kids, Aziraphale. You know becoming close to humans just leads to heartbreak. And what does this have to do with you practically freaking out in the park?”

“I’m not talking about adopting them.”

Crowley stood there, hands on her hips, lips pressed into a tight line of frustration. “Then would you please explain to me what’s gotten into you?”

“You’re pregnant.”

“I’m what?”

“Pregnant. I know that sounds impossible . . .”

“You’re barking mad, you know that?” She turned to head upstairs. “Whatever you’re playing at, I can’t right now.”

Crowley didn’t get very far before she found the angel barring the way, cheating by using a bit of magic to get ahead of her. Grabbing her hand, he pulled his wife back towards his office, Crowley letting him mostly out of curiosity. Once there he put her hand directly on her stomach right where his was when he laid it on her in the park.

“Search your body for spirits.”

He got The Look in return. The Look that told him he was being outrageous and Crowley was not going to participate in whatever he was up to, usually given when he had asked Crowley to help out with good deeds outside the scope of the Arrangement.

“Just do it, Crowley.”

“Oh look, I found one. Me!” replied the demon sarcastically before shock registered on her face. “Aziraphale? I’m not alone in here.”

“I know. That would be our child.”

“That’s not possible. We don’t have reproductive organs like humans. Where did I get a uterus and eggs? Where did you get sperm?” Crowley sank down on the couch, only partially able to take in this information.

Aziraphale sat down next to her. “It explains why your body wants to be female right now. It can’t cope with presenting as male while carrying a child.”

“That’s kind of sexist, isn’t it?” said Crowley. “I can’t be a parent. I actually _enjoy_ having a life.”

“You were a nanny for five years. You enjoyed that. Admit it; you were rather fond of Warlock.”

“We don’t have the options humans do. I’d just be discorporating an immortal spirit and that would be awfully cruel.” Crowley leaned her head against Aziraphale’s shoulder. “And what happens once it’s born? How human is it going to act? Are we going to be getting up for midnight feedings? Changing nappies? Putting the kid down for naps? How fast is it going to grow? Are we going to be looking at it reaching adulthood long before a human kid would? That’ll be fun to explain. What if it doesn’t age? What if we’re stuck with a baby forever?”

“I wish I had answers, my dear.” He felt her sniff more than he heard it and knew she was either in tears or close to it but trying to hide it from him. He pretended he didn’t notice, opting to take her hand instead of giving her a hug or wiping them away. Crowley never liked it when he noticed she was emotional.

Neither of them quite knew what to say. Aziraphale decided to stay quiet for a few minutes while Crowley got her emotions reined in instead of potentially saying or doing exactly the wrong thing.

“I don’t even know how long I’m going to be pregnant,” she added, emotions now controlled enough Aziraphale felt safe acting. 

“C’mere.” The angel wrapped his arms around her. “Let me hold you, my love. I’d take on this pregnancy if I could. I hate seeing you this upset.”

Crowley melted into Aziraphale. “I am scared half to death. There’s never been an angel-demon hybrid before. They don’t even exist in mythology.”

“No, and they shouldn’t exist now. It was just not possible for this to happen without someone interfering. It makes me nervous.”

“Let’s hope it’s not another one of the Almighty’s wedding gifts. I really did want to stay childless. I so expected to stay childless it was never a thought that crossed my mind. Now I’m apparently going to give birth to one. That’s going to be _fun_.”

They fell silent yet again; attempting to process how yet another barrier had been thrown in front of them. An impossible happening that they had to figure out on their own. Aziraphale was as frightened of this strange future they faced as Crowley was and maybe even more so because no book ever written was going to hold any answers for them. He had no idea what to do.

~*~*~

_Four Months Pregnant_

“Will you put that down?” Crowley was putting dinner on the table and irritated that Aziraphale had brought a book into the kitchen with him. “You can read later.”

Dinner tonight was some kind of lamb stew with rice. Since Crowley was cooking, what was served was determined by her cravings and aversions. The morning sickness was gone, but lately she couldn’t stand even the sight of beef at all, therefore that was off the menu. She couldn’t even handle Aziraphale ordering anything with beef in it when they went out to eat, so he suffered along side her. Some days he’d give anything for something as “rough” as an American hamburger, which did not at all meet his standards of cuisine.

“It’s interesting. The baby’s now about twelve centimeters long and weighs one hundred seventy grams.”

“And it’s already affecting my shape,” the demon groused.

She had taken to wearing black maternity skinny jeans and oversized shirts. The waistcoat she used to wear was put away in the closet for now. Her abdomen was still at the gentle swell stage but it was enough to be noticeable and require different clothing, which annoyed her. Even more so since maternity wear tended to be “cutesy,” in her opinion, and something she was forced to buy outright at first because pregnant demon was a shape unfamiliar to her. Still, everything she bought became shades of black, red and grey by the time she made it home. 

It would be nice when she could go back to creating clothing out of raw firmament. She longed to go back to presenting as male. It wasn’t that she minded being female and never have, but she had Aziraphale’s preferences to worry about now. If he was human, he’d be gay and she lived in constant fear he found her unattractive now and was just having sex with her to keep her confidence up, even though she could still manifest male parts for fun times.

Being female-presenting, she let her hair grow out long with a little magical help. It was done in loose curls, a well-kempt shoulder-length version of the tangled feral mess she had when she met up with Aziraphale for the second time, a thousand years after the Garden of Eden. Aziraphale enjoyed brushing it and occasionally braided it for her.

Aziraphale relented and put the book aside, if only because talk of the pregnancy annoyed Crowley. He didn’t quite understand why she wanted to remain ignorant to the changes going on with her own body or how the baby was developing, but he suspected it was because the whole idea terrified her. 

He was doing a bit better himself, on one hand becoming more excited over having a child and apprehensive because this was the furthest thing from status quo for ethereal or infernal beings. Then again, neither was loving each other in the sort of manner they loved, but emotional attachment was easier to handle than creating a new life. The kind of life previously only created by God.

“We should get out tomorrow. It’s been a few days and you’re getting irritable. We do need to do some shopping. What do you say?” he asked as he ate the delicious stew Crowley had made.

“I miss wine. And scotch. And vodka. And brandy.”

“You know you can’t. We don’t know if you can keep it from getting to the baby or not.”

Crowley sighed. “I want this over with. What are we going to do with a baby, angel?” 

“Raise it. And hire a babysitter when we need some time to ourselves.”

“It’s going to be hard to explain why the kid has no gender or sex, you know. Babysitters change nappies.”

“It’s forming a human body, my dear. Ours came with all the parts, so I assume the baby’s will, too.”

Crowley just picked at her dinner morosely in response. Aziraphale was going to pry her out of the flat if he had to. She was overthinking things again. He managed to change the subject, promising to go with Crowley to the newest art gallery that had opened. Maybe there was some up and coming new artist that caught her eye whose work she would want to purchase. She was still looking for the right artwork to put over their bed.

They retired to the lounge to watch a film after dinner, Crowley leaning up against Aziraphale, who had an arm around her so he could place a hand on her belly. Much to Crowley’s frustration he still had that book, setting it open to the page he was reading there on the couch arm. 

“Put it away, angel,” Crowley said, shifting a bit to stretch out more, like a gravid serpent. “I’ll be pregnant tomorrow, promise. You can research it then.”

Reluctantly, the angel put away the book, banishing it to his office to be able better to resist the temptation to pick it up again. Now he could concentrate on the film and a bit of cuddling. It seemed to be what Crowley needed. Upon reflection, what he needed. 

Later that night as they lay in bed spooning, he felt the first ripple of movement across Crowley’s belly and heard her breath catch in wonder at that. It was a fragile feeling, but everything seemed to be perfect for the first time since this ordeal began.

~*~*~

At Gabriel’s request, Beelzebub cleared out the area she was using as her office, banishing all lesser demons to other areas of Hell. In the empty area filled with only her cheap-looking desk, a couple of plastic chairs and the sickly fluorescent lighting so prominent in Hell, she looked up upon his entrance.

He surprisingly politely refused the seat she offered. No flunkies were with him this time. In fact, Michael outright would not come at all after that incident with Crowley and the holy water. It was embarrassing to be known as the angel who actually miracled up a towel for a demon. It probably further rubbed her the wrong way that Crowley would have told Aziraphale that whole story and she could envision the exiled angel laughing about it.

“So, how are things coming along?” he asked, trying not to curl his lip up in disgust at the less-than-pristine conditions of the basement office. This alliance was important.

“So far so good. Almost five months along and Crowley’s body isn’t rejecting the child,” replied Beelzebub. 

“They suspect something fishy and have since the beginning. Aziraphale’s been researching when he’s had the chance, but he’ll find nothing. This was a hypothetical spell found in one book in Heaven’s library. I’m not even sure of the author. It wasn’t signed and nobody has stepped forward to claim it,” Gabriel said confidently. 

He was sure the War would go through this time. Except the War would be against those two traitors and everything they loved. 

“We’re still working on finding the spell to free your two Dukes from their banishment,” Gabriel added. That bit of magic surprised me. He’s cleverer than I thought; I guess I never gave Aziraphale enough credit. I won’t make that mistake again.”

“You’d better be quick about it. I need my best up there in a little more than four months or so to get the child. We cannot allow it be raised by them if this plan is to work.” 

Beelzebub seethed privately at Hastur and Ligur’s inability to leave Hell. They seemed happy to have each other back, though that wasn’t her concern. They had work to do, but were stuck Down Here because of that angel. She would have been happy to spend hours painfully removing every feather from Aziraphale’s wings since hellfire wouldn’t kill him. 

“I know. Don’t tell me how to do my job and I won’t tell you how to do yours, ok?” snapped Gabriel before turning crisply to leave.

~*~*~

Lailah was the angel in charge of watching over the unborn, although that job was largely automated these days with the human population at the levels it was at. She took on special cases and this one was particularly special. Who had ever heard of a pregnant demon before?

She was in her office, monitoring the immortal being growing inside of Crowley when Gabriel walked by briefing his associate Archangels about his latest visit with Beelzebub. Lailah kept her head in her laptop, knowing they’d ignore her existence since that group seemed to think her job was rather minor these days. In fact they seemed to have forgotten her existence altogether since they didn’t seem to realize she’d be the first alerted to an unusual pregnancy.

“So, all we know is the pregnancy’s progressing? What if it’s not . . . normal?” asked Michael. “All that work for nothing.”

“Well, it hasn’t ended in a miscarriage yet and we’ll know if the child’s viable or whatever when it’s born. We knew it was a gamble forcing the creation of a hybrid to destroy the Earth but what choice did we have?” Gabriel asked. “Those two can’t be allowed to change the course of history. The War must happen and if it’s to be us _and_ Hell versus Earth, so be it. If I could go back . . .”

Lailah couldn’t hear anymore since they had moved on down the hall. Dumbasses. _She_ could tell them a few statistics about this hybrid angel-demon child they created. But given how they were using Aziraphale and his demon spouse, she wasn’t feeling up to letting them know even the smallest piece of information.

With a sigh, she brushed back the wisp of long, brown hair that had escaped her ponytail out of her face. Lailah had been as interested in ending the world as Aziraphale. She just kept her mouth shut about it to keep from getting punished. Maybe now was the time to act. 

Waiting a few more minutes, she then left her office, intending to head to down to Soho. She had a few exceptional cases she was handling that she could use as an excuse if they noticed she was gone. They didn’t know she knew about their plans to restart the War, so she held the advantage.

Stepping up to the globe on the main floor, she touched London and headed down to the city to observe the two.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I _Went There_. I created a pregnancy. It sounds outrageous even to me and I have written the story to completion. Why Crowley? Because when it comes to gender presentation, Crowley’s been more fluid than Aziraphale – Golgotha, Nanny Ashtoreth, that hair style Crowley’s sporting at Noah’s Ark was female for the time, I’m told. Men wore their hair short and braids were considered feminine. It wouldn’t surprise me to find out that Crowley’s been even more fluid with their gender presentation over the millennia than we’ve seen. Look at Crowley just from the fashion standpoint – hair and clothes are constantly changing. 
> 
> For all they’re gender-neutral, sexless beings, Aziraphale has presented as male most of the time. Sure, he spent a few hours in Madam Tracy’s body without having a problem with it because when it comes down to it he doesn’t identify as either male or female -- when he toasted with Crowley in Ancient Rome he said "Salutaria," which is the neuter, plural form on the word, not the gendered, plural one. But he is stable in his presentation when he has his own body. His hair’s been the same style since Eden and his basic wardrobe hasn’t changed much in about 200 years. He finds something that works for him and he hangs on to it. I include presenting male in that. Thus, I have a hard time imagining Aziraphale’s body shifting to female-presenting.
> 
> Plus since I’ve written him as preferring male-presenting lovers, I was able to play a little bit with Crowley’s fears that Aziraphale’s not going to love her as long as she’s presenting female. Or at least not want to have sex with her.
> 
> Finally, Aziraphale has always struck me as the more emotionally stable of the two, which I think puts him in a better position to be the support system rather than the pregnant partner. I cannot see Crowley trying to deal with the emotional aspects of a pregnant Aziraphale without becoming irritated enough to walk out on him once or twice, even if temporarily. I didn’t want to turn Crowley into that kind of prat.
> 
> Besides, I found this picture and it made me go “awwwww!” 
> 
> <https://theangelsflashbastard.tumblr.com/image/188007609516>


	14. Try Not to Think About It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“It took you long enough,” she said, setting down the newspaper. “I thought you were just going to continue to tolerate my existence here.”_
> 
> _“What do you want, my dear girl?” asked Aziraphale._
> 
> _She extended her hand. “Lailah, angel in charge of watching over the unborn. You might say you two have piqued my interest.”_

_Six Months Pregnant_

Aziraphale had let her camp out and watch for almost two months now, but enough was enough. There was really only so much time he could allow this to go on before it annoyed him to the point he needed to intervene. She was there once again at the little café down the street from the bookshop, drinking a latte while reading. On and off she was watching them, like she was going back and forth between here and Heaven.

“I’m sorry, my dear,” he said to Crowley. “But this nonsense has to stop.”

They had been out shopping. Crowley had learned to replace alcohol with certain kinds of favourite foods for the time being, the list containing items from savory to sweet. The two of them had just hit the neighbourhood’s local chocolaterie for Crowley’s favourites. 

Looking up from her newspaper, Lailah found herself flanked on one side by an angry angel dressed a century behind the times and the other by a pregnant demon carrying a bag full of chocolates. She smiled at both of them.

“It took you long enough,” she said, setting down the newspaper. “I thought you were just going to continue to tolerate my existence here.”

“What do you want, my dear girl?” asked Aziraphale.

She extended her hand. “Lailah, angel in charge of watching over the unborn. You might say you two have piqued my interest.”

The demon looked at her partner, then shrugged and stuck out her hand. “Crowley, world’s most unusual demon. That’s Aziraphale, angel gone native. Don’t expect much politeness out of him since he has his knickers in a bunch.”

Lailah had never heard that phrase before, but she took it to mean he wasn’t in the best of moods. “I don’t mean you two any harm. I’m not here officially from Heaven and they don’t know what I’m up to. But you’ve made it rather difficult to make contact since you’ve coated that bookshop in warding spells.”

Aziraphale snapped his fingers. “There. Now you can come in so we can talk.”

She was led off to the backroom of one second-hand bookshop where she sat at an old table covered with a quaint tablecloth. Crowley had seated herself beside her, digging into the chocolates without offering any to either angel.

“Tea?” asked Aziraphale, outright ignoring Crowley’s rudeness.

“No thanks. I just drank that latte.”

“What is Heaven up to?” asked Aziraphale, miracling himself up a cuppa.

“Restarting the War with Hell’s cooperation and from the information I’ve managed to gather, they need a hybrid to recall the Horsemen. It’s apparently all written up in books in Heaven’s library, but the Powers That Be have removed such books from the shelves.”

“I knew it,” muttered Crowley, a half-eaten chocolate in her hand. “All of us against all of them. I just wasn’t expecting it now. What happened to the breathing space?”

She popped the rest of it in her mouth, causing her spouse to roll his eyes at her selfishness. 

“Why do they need a hybrid?” Aziraphale’s brow creased in confusion. “Can’t they just have Hell make another Antichrist?”

“Not while one’s in play, no,” replied Crowley, mouth full. “It doesn’t matter Adam is fully human now. He’s still technically the Antichrist. So the closest thing is an abomination that shouldn’t exist. The Horsemen’ll listen to a being that’s evidence of an agreement between the two Realms.”

“Please don’t refer to our child as an abomination, Crowley.”

“Not now, angel. I’m looking at this from the big picture.” The demon was caressing her belly as she responded. “I do not think of our child as some kind of monster, but the fact of the matter is that this baby shouldn’t exist. Now let’s get back on the subject.”

Lailah continued. “I’ve been gathering information when and where I could. With them plotting to end the world, they’re not paying much attention to an angel whose job directly involves humans. I’m basically invisible to them.”

Crowley stood up and started to pace the room. “Sorry, kid’s active again. Go on.”

“They found a spell to make angels and demons fertile. The plan was to get two of our own to pair off, but that failed. They don’t understand human sex and even if they did, no angel wanted to have intimate relations with a demon. I imagine the reverse is true as well. You two are the exception. So the spell was cast on you”

“South Downs,” murmured Aziraphale.

“No wonder I went female then. Dammit all,” Crowley said to her partner softly.

Aziraphale eyed his fellow angel suspiciously. “So why do you care? Why aren’t you just letting it happen?”

“I assign souls to the unborn that they receive upon birth. Then I give them the potential for good, watch them grow up and hope they make good choices,” Lailah replied. “Maybe I’m not as connected to humanity as you two, but I don’t believe we need to be destroying them. They’re a strange lot with that free will and potential for both good and evil, but they should be just left in peace.”

She stared at her hands for a moment then brushed her brown hair out of her face before continuing. “When I was assigned this job I swore an oath to protect infants. I can’t stand by and let one be used. It goes against everything I stand for.”

Her deep apple green eyes made contact with Aziraphale’s sky blue ones, then Crowley’s molten amber gaze. Nothing in her look said she was lying about what she just said. Crowley wished she had her sunglasses so she wouldn’t have to endure such an honest gaze. Aziraphale had broken eye contact before Lailah looked in Crowley’s direction.

“What do they plan?” asked Crowley. “It’s not like we’re going to raise our child to be a stand-in for the Antichrist.”

Aziraphale shifted uncomfortably, plucking at the cardigan he was wearing as he did so. “They’re planning to take the baby, aren’t they?”

Lailah nodded. “We’re not going to let them. We'll fight it. I’ll find a way to hide you guys if I have to. Now Crowley, I’d really like your permission to examine this baby. I want to make sure everything is going the way it should.”

The couch up in the lounge was the only place besides the bed Crowley could stretch out flat. Lailah was hovering over her, hands on her expanding belly, using her magic and knowledge of pregnancy to find out some information on this new life. 

“You have been seeing a human doctor who specializes in pregnancies?”

“No. Why bother? A few wishes ensures the baby gets what it needs from me. Plus Aziraphale makes me take prenatal vitamins as a precaution. He doesn’t let me drink, or eat sushi, or consume anything else fun that might cause the kid damage because we don’t know if magic is an effective way to keep harmful substances from them or if such things would screw up the developing human body of a supernatural entity. You have no idea how much I miss caffeine,” complained Crowley. “Plus it would be hard to explain to a human any differences that might crop up with this bundle of joy. I don’t want to have to modify someone’s memory because the ultrasound showed wings.”

Aziraphale was hovering nearby. “Can you explain at all what this child is? I felt a developing immortal spirit back when I suspected something.”

Lailah nodded. “That’s about it. We’ve got here a half ethereal/half infernal spirit nestled in Crowley’s womb growing a human body around it. The spirit is new, the age of the pregnancy, so it’s not like they crammed some previously created spirit in there. Somehow that spell they used not only made you two fertile and passed on the human elements of your bodies, but your ethereal and infernal traits as well.”

“We shouldn’t be able to pass on anything,” commented Crowley, struggling a bit to sit up since she was starting to get a larger abdomen now. “We’re essentially spirit-based beings running around in meat suits.”

“I can’t explain the mechanics of the spell since I haven’t seen it. I’m sorry.” The other angel stuck out her hand to help Crowley up.

Aziraphale sat down next to his spouse, taking her hand in his. “Is everything ok with it?”

“The baby looks healthy. Active. Appears to have all the parts a human should. It’s presenting as female right now. I assume she’ll stay presenting female until she learns she can switch but who knows?” Lailah shrugged. “I’m as new to this as you are. There are wings developing on her in the celestial plane.”

“A girl!” Aziraphale exclaimed, growing all dewy-eyed. 

Crowley could see it now . . . her husband buying all kinds of cute frilly little outfits for their child. She remembered very well how much Aziraphale loved those collars in Elizabethan times and the lace that went with men’s fashion of various eras. If he could get away with wearing frilly stuff nowadays, he would. Outwardly, anyway. He did enjoy wearing lace-covered knickers now and again. 

Lailah shifted a bit and smiled in apology. “I should really get back Up There before they notice. They’re keeping their War ideas to themselves, so I just have to say I’m down here doing my job. Rather keep the job excuses I have until I need them, though. Sorry to have to meet under such circumstances.”

She reached out to shake both Aziraphale and Crowley’s hands. “I want to keep an eye on things if you don’t mind. I’ll check in with you about a good time to visit. And I do want to be there for the birth. I did midwifing back when the Earth was smaller, population-wise. You’re going to want someone there who knows what’s going on. Believe me. Discuss it at least.”

She disappeared out of the bookshop, leaving Crowley and Aziraphale to stare at each other.

“Do you trust her?” Crowley asked, winding the loose edge of her dark grey top around one slim finger.

Aziraphale nodded. “Lailah’s always seemed like good people. She’s one of the few who’s ever stood up to Gabriel. But then again, she’s not part of his department so it was easier for her to do.”

“That doesn’t answer my question,” replied Crowley peevishly. “Do you trust her?”

“Yes. I don’t know if her help will amount to anything, but I’m ready to accept it.”

“I’m ready to pack up and head to Alpha Centauri.”

Aziraphale laid his head on Crowley’s shoulder. “You know that won’t work this time around, my love. Last time we wouldn’t have been worth the effort to hunt down. Now we have something they need.”

“What are we going to do?” The stress of the situation mixed with the hormones flowing through her body had Crowley on the verge of tears again. 

Aziraphale gathered her in his arms. “Oh, my love . . . I wish I had answers. We will fight. I will protect you and her. Remember what the Almighty said? That nothing can part us. I guess I have to have faith in Her and Her ability to make this right.”

He couldn’t stand to see Crowley’s eyes full of tears, see the demon so close to defeat. It tore at him like nothing else. They should be happy. This should be their time, after all the trials and tribulations they’d been through in the last six thousand years and even before. 

“I’m going to make this better, Crowley. I promise,” he said so fiercely that he startled his spouse.

She ran a hand over her belly, smiling wryly at Aziraphale as she did so. “You got the kid worked up. Good job.”

With a chuckle he leaned over to give Crowley’s stomach a kiss. “I guess she’s a fighter.”

“She has to be. Look at the family she’s being born into,” Crowley nestled into him. “I could so use a drink. Or four.”

“No.”

“I’m sure I could create a barrier.”

“We’re not risking it.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever been so scared in my entire existence.”

Aziraphale took her into his arms.

Feeling scared and alone, they lay together on the couch, spooning, with Aziraphale clinging tightly to Crowley around her middle and Crowley caressing his cheek with her hand as evening came and the shadows danced across the flat’s windows.

~*~*~

Crowley had awakened early that morning. She stood by the bedroom window, which she had opened slightly, drinking a cup of herbal tea. It was not her favourite but it was the best she could do these days. The steam from it was very visible in the crisp morning air, the sounds of people starting to get on with their day drifting up from the street below.

“Mmm . . . Crowley? Come back to bed, my dear.” Aziraphale, ever the light sleeper, was awakened by the noise floating in from outside. “You need it since your insomnia is getting so bad lately.”

“Demons don’t need sleep anymore than you do.” But she set the teacup on the nightstand then crawled back into bed anyway, wrapping herself around the angel as much as possible with a pregnant belly. 

“Would sex help?”

“You just want to suck me off as much as possible before I grow too large for that to be comfortable. Nothing like your forehead banging into my abdomen.”

“You’re insufferable today. Get those clothes off.”

“Yes, Master.”

“If you want to go there, I can probably conjure up some rope and a gag.” Aziraphale grabbed a nipple, teasing it between his thumb and fingers, watching Crowley melt with delight as he did so. “I must admit I love how sensitive these have gotten.”

Crowley’s response was incomprehensible. She worked Aziraphale’s cock as he messed with her breasts. He had gotten breast worship down to an art in her opinion with all the caressing, licking, sucking and kissing. Right now he was just touching them with his hands, pinching and teasing the nipples while occasionally roaming out to grab fistfuls of breast, causing the masochist in Crowley to jump with desire.

“Not too hard, Crowley, you’re starting to hurt me,” he said softly as he removed her hand from between his legs and leaned her back. 

She had manifested a cock that was unsurprisingly now ready for action. Kissing down her stomach, he reached the areas he most wanted.

“Shouldn’t you have stretch marks by now?”

“Now who’s in need of a gag? I’m vain and magical. Do the maths.”

Blow jobs were getting harder as she got larger but Aziraphale managed. He licked Crowley’s cock, wetting it enough he could get his mouth around it then got to work pleasuring the demon. Closing his eyes, he got into a rhythm, nearly hypnotizing himself as he physically showed Crowley he still loved her no matter what. 

He messed around with the tip a bit, Crowley moaning as she slid her fingers through his hair, digging her nails into his scalp impatiently when he teased too much for her liking. He nipped the tip gently in response, eliciting a soft yelp. 

His head lightly bounced off her stomach as he worked, making him realize that maybe this would be one of the last times they did this until after the baby was born. He was going to miss it given he thoroughly enjoyed the sensations given and received. Finishing up as Crowley came rather loudly and yanking on his hair, he pulled off before she ended up ripping out handfuls of it. An easily solvable problem, but a real mood killer. He slid up to look her in the eyes.

“So, should I put it in the front, the back or are you going to suck it for me?” he asked in the un-Aziraphale-like language he only used in the bedroom.

“I don’t feel like sucking,” she kissed him, licking inside of his mouth with that flexible tongue of hers. “Stick it in one of the lower holes.”

“The front it is.” And he thrust in hard, causing her to gasp in response to the sensations. 

He knew she felt inadequate for him like this. Aziraphale was well aware that his preferences and her current form troubled her, making her wonder on top of their other problems if he was still attracted to her. Maybe a few orgasms would convince her he loved the infernal spirit that resided inside the body. The body and its form didn’t matter.

Besides, he was getting pretty damn good at understanding how these particular parts worked. He was conscious about rubbing against her clit, making sure she received orgasms from the sexual contact. All he wanted was to show her he loved her. He couldn’t care less about his own orgasm right now, instead making this session all about Crowley. She was the one making the most sacrifice here and he couldn’t be prouder of how she had stepped up. 

“One more, my love?”

“One more,” she gasped. 

He leaned forward the best he could under the circumstances to kiss and nibble, biting her lip hard as they both reached climax one last time. He loved listening to her moan with the pain that felt so good to her. 

“I’m a sadist, too,” she said as soon as she could speak. “You should let me try that out on you. I think you’d like it. I’d be gentle. At first.”

“Yes, ‘at first’,” laughed Aziraphale. “I’ll think about it, my dear. Now get some sleep.”

He touched his fingers to the side of her head, sliding in there a suggestion to get rest. Then he stroked her long, wavy locks until her breathing slowed. Success. With any luck, she’d be out for a few hours.

He curled up beside Crowley, musing how funny it was sleep was now part of his schedule and how easy it was to fall in such a routine, despite their troubles. Forgetting for a moment about what they were facing in a mere three months time, he joined Crowley in slumber.

He woke up later to find Crowley’s side of the bed empty. Looking at the clock, he saw it was well past noon and he should have opened the bookshop hours ago. Almost cursing, he got dressed and headed downstairs.

To find it was already open with Crowley sitting at the till, paying more attention to her mobile than the customers. He smiled at the sight.

“Morning, sunshine. Shirking your duties, I see. It’s a good thing I’m around to pick up the slack.”

“Thank you,” he rushed over to give her a kiss that she avidly accepted. “How are you feeling? Get enough sleep?”

“I’m rested. I ate some breakfast, but I was waiting for you for lunch. I took those stupid vitamins like you want me to. Blah, blah, blah,” she sounded like she was reciting a list, but Aziraphale ignored the tone. Loving Crowley meant putting up with some sarcasm and annoyed attitudes.

But the flippant tone didn’t hide the concern in her currently amber eyes. They were outwardly living like they were ignorant of the information Lailah passed to them a while ago. Aziraphale knew Crowley was worried about the baby, Heaven and Hell’s plan and the world itself. The stakes were higher this time around.

It was fifteen months past the first failed Apocalypse and in a few more they would be fighting to keep the two Realms from taking their newborn baby to raise as another Antichrist. The odds were stacked so highly against them, it was exhausting already. How were they going to fight when the wait was finally over?

Aziraphale had no idea and he was petrified.

~*~*~

Hastur opened the door to his quarters in Hell, inviting Ligur inside. The chameleon on Ligur’s head was a worried shade of yellow, reflected in his eyes. He had a seat on the old couch of Hastur’s, brushing aside the pile of folders the other demon had sitting there.

“Be careful with those. That’s every single report on the newest War efforts,” groused Hastur. “Now, what do you want to talk about?”

“I don’t like it,” said Ligur, settling in and giving his best friend a look. “There’s no point of wiping out Earth just to get back at Crowley and his lover for not following orders. That’s just way too petty. And I like petty.”

Hastur got out some of the liquor he had other demons procure for him when they were up doing temptations. “Drink?”

“Sure.”

He set a glass of it down in front of Ligur and took a sip of his before replying. “But this has always been the endgame. We’re just cooperating instead of fighting each other. What’s gotten into you?”

“I spent several months as a half-created spirit stuck in one place,” Ligur swirled the brown liquid around, staring off morosely. “I had nothing. Do you realize how boring it is when you have nothing to do? Nothing at all but to sometimes hang out in some angel’s dreams? I’m lucky Crowley’s lover picked up his habit of sleeping or I’d still be there going out of my mind.”

Hastur wasn’t getting it. “So? What’s that got to do with ending the world?”

The chameleon flashed red with Ligur’s temper. “You don’t get it, do you? What are we going to have once the world is gone? Nothing. Some human souls to torture but that’s going to get old and boring. How many already don’t have an interest in torturing anymore? Quite a few. They’d rather be up playing games to gain souls for Hell. But Earth’ll be gone. We’ll have an empty flat to kick around in. That’s all. No more tempting. No more fighting with Heaven over souls. Nothing! Don’t you see? A little competition’s healthy. It keeps us from being at each other’s throats.”

“Oh. Right. Yeah, I can kind of see that.” Hastur leaned back in his ratty old chair. “But what’s the point for us? We’re stuck here in Hell anyway.”

“Do you even like going up to Earth? Because I don’t.” Ligur drained his glass. “First time I was up there in a thousand years was when we handed the Antichrist off to Crowley. I can run schemes down here, have the lesser demons carry them out. Can still get into people’s heads without physically being there. Been doing that for ages, so nothing’s really changed for me, banishment or not.”

Hastur nodded in agreement. He wasn’t that fond of hanging out on Earth himself. Neither demon could understand what Crowley saw in living there for thousands of years. “Ok. So, what can we do?”

“I’ve been keeping an eye out for those who were happy we didn’t go to war. There are a few. We recruit them to take a stand against this.”

“You sure? All we can do right now is make a list. This isn’t common knowledge yet.”

“It’s good enough,” grunted Ligur. “I still got contacts in Heaven. Maybe I can find a way to trick Michael into telling me if there are angels who weren’t happy about the Apocalypse. Figure out a way to recruit them.”

Hastur hummed in response. “That’s a big order. Besides, what are we going to do? File a petition?”

“No. I was thinking protect the brat once it is born.”

“Crowley’s brat? Do you hear yourself?”

“Yes I do and I’m not doing it for Crowley. I’m doing it to keep the two Realms from getting bored and ripping each other apart. I’ve decided I really do like existing and I don’t want that to change. Think about it at least.” Ligur pointed at Hastur’s television. “Turn that thing on. That one war criminal from New Greensland or whatever has finally died. They’re going to broadcast his first torture.”

Ligur never was very good with his geography. 


	15. Countdown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _They stood no real chance against Heaven and Hell combined even though they would go down fighting to keep their child from being taken and used by the two Realms. What good would their immortality, in lives and souls, be if it meant watching their child being groomed into the next Antichrist?_
> 
> _Aziraphale prayed, but he heard nothing in return. This couldn’t be the plan God wanted. Why give them happiness just to take it away again?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This weekend offerings from me are this and [It Would Take a Real Miracle](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20997923/chapters/49935314), which is based on the 1941 London Blitz scene from the series. Yes, we've moved on to blowing up Nazis in a church. Who doesn't have fun doing that?

_Eight Months Pregnant_

Aziraphale was wishing they could give up the ruse of pretending they knew nothing of Heaven and Hell’s plans to kidnap their child. He found himself wishing, like Crowley, they could flee the planet but there wasn’t a place they could go where they couldn’t be found. He suspected they were being discreetly watched, thus couldn’t even attempt to leave Earth’s atmosphere without being chased down and brought back. And while they could survive the ravages of space – Crowley had gotten bored on occasion over the millennia and skipped around the galaxy – could an unborn child? Even if she was immortal?

Crowley’s anxiety levels rose higher the closer they got to the birth. She spent most of her time anymore in the flat and bookshop, having no desire to go out for walks at St. James’, lunch at the Ritz or outings to other favourite places. Aziraphale had long given up trying to pry her out of their home and supported her the best he could under the circumstances.

He wasn’t holding up much better, but that he hid away for her sake.

They stood no real chance against Heaven and Hell combined even though they would go down fighting to keep their child from being taken and used by the two Realms. What good would their immortality, in lives and souls, be if it meant watching their child being groomed into the next Antichrist?

Aziraphale prayed, but he heard nothing in return. This couldn’t be the plan God wanted. Why give them happiness just to take it away again?

Lailah visited quite often, as often as she could these days. She was covertly recruiting angels who were not happy with the situation since Gabriel had finally announced the plans to cooperate with Hell to take out Earth and humanity. That the demon lover of the exiled Principality Aziraphale was carrying their child, a child that would be taken and raised by the two Realms to restart the War. 

Some didn’t want to team with Hell. Others felt that it was God’s plan that the first Apocalypse didn’t go through. Others were war-weary, having geared up for one that didn’t happen, nor wanting to bother with that let-down again. Still others felt it was in bad taste to use the first child ever produced by an angel in such a manner, even if said angel was no longer welcome in the Host.

It soothed Crowley and Aziraphale a bit to know there were others willing to fight on their side, but it wasn’t going to be enough. It was never going to be enough.

~*~*~

A folder slid across the desk towards Lailah. 

“Amriel, Elyon and Sablon are on board,” the angel handing it to her whispered. “I’ve got a few more I’m going to talk to. How many do we have now?”

“About five hundred,” Lailah replied. “Five hundred of us against millions. Anyway, I’ll add them to the rotation. We’ve always got ten down there on patrol. Sablon’s a good speaker, so hopefully he can rally even more. Thanks for all your help.”

Her co-conspirator nodded and left. 

A few days later Lailah was called before Gabriel for a meeting. Apprehensive that he had figured out her plan, she went to his office expecting the most severe punishment, hoping that didn’t involve permanent death by hellfire.

“We’re reassigning you, Lailah. Since the world’s going to be ending within a decade or so, your position is no longer needed,” Gabriel told her curtly, not bothering to look up from the paperwork in front of him.

 _Nice to know I rate so high with you_ , she thought sarcastically.

“All right. . . What am I going to be doing?”

“Reconnaissance. I want to make sure Aziraphale and Crowley haven’t caught wind of what’s going on. If they ever do, I wouldn’t put it past them to try to go into hiding or something.” Gabriel finally looked up at her. “And you are best equipped to keep an eye on the baby. Crowley’s body hasn’t rejected it yet and Hell keeps telling me the pregnancy is coming along great, but I don’t quite trust them. You’ll give me reports on what you can about it, ok?”

“Ok,” she replied. This couldn’t have played out better. She could be in place for the birth with no questions asked. “Shall I try to infiltrate? I do have midwife abilities and could make sure the baby comes into the world as safely as possible. No demon’s ever given birth. We don’t know if there will be complications.”

Gabriel beamed at her. “Great idea! Way to really think about this. How will you convince them to let you in?”

“I did take an oath to protect the unborn. Aziraphale will sense that’s true. I’ll just be following my calling and they don’t need to know about the rest.”

“Do what you have to. We can’t risk anything going wrong.”

Lailah nodded. “Will do.”

Inwardly, she celebrated all the way back to her office. Gabriel had no idea what he had just handed her. 

~*~*~

The new ones always came to the bookshop to introduce themselves, posing as customers. After that, Aziraphale and Crowley didn’t see them again. It was too dangerous for them to be constantly coming and going. Instead they patrolled and when that became too risky to do with Heaven’s agents checking up every so often, they rented the upper floor flats in the area to keep watch through the windows. The bookshop was never without a few guarding it from every angle. 

Aziraphale closed the door on the latest two to introduce themselves as Crowley waved the cups left from tea served back to their places in the kitchenette cupboard, all clean and ready for the next guests. More would come. They always did.

“You ok?” Aziraphale came up and hugged Crowley from behind, which was the easiest way these days. Her body hadn’t put on any weight itself, since she was a demon, but her abdomen was getting larger by the week. 

“I haven’t been ok for a few months, angel.”

“We’ll get through this.”

“Our chances aren’t that great.”

“I know, but we have to remain positive. We prevailed against horrible odds before.”

“You’ll have to be the positive one because I can’t anymore.”

She kissed him and headed upstairs. Aziraphale stood there, his heart nearly breaking, but he had to keep the appearance of normal up and that meant keeping the bookshop open at least another hour. His hours had become more predictable since he started treating it like a paycheck. He couldn’t exactly follow her like he wanted to.

Crowley curled up on the bed, devoid of any optimism. It was quite a feat for the demon, who always felt that the universe would look out for her no matter what. She’d always believed she’d come out on top. Not this time. She was going to be fighting not just for herself, but for her own child. The perspective had suddenly changed. This wasn’t hopping into the Bentley after deciding if you were going to go, then you might as well go with style. This was all to keep the innocent life she carried inside of her for nine months from being taken away to be used as a tool in a war to end everything.

Funny how pregnancy could affect your outlook on things. Seven months ago when they discovered she was pregnant, it annoyed her to no end, to put it mildly. Now she felt an attachment to this tiny sprog who wasn’t even born yet.

It scared her it might be Aziraphale out there alone sticking up for their little family. She didn’t know when Heaven and/or Hell were going to show up to try to take their child away. What if they showed up right after she was born? Would the rebels be able to scramble in time to be there? Would Crowley be in any kind of condition to help? No demon had ever given birth. She had no clue how long it would take her to heal herself and regain strength. Plus it wasn’t like she could just set the kid aside to go try to stop things from happening.

 _Fuck_.

She curled up tighter, trying not to think about it.

Later, she roused herself to make dinner, the roast beef, Yorkshire puddings, vegetables and custard tart she made for Aziraphale that night not so long ago when everything changed. It was the least she could do. He was there emotionally for her through all this mess. Her rock. He deserved all the love she could show him because she might not have much time left to show it.

“Crowley? My dear? Wake up, you fell asleep.” 

Aziraphale was gently shaking her. She was seated, opening her eyes to an extremely close up view of the black wooden top of the kitchen table where her head lay on her arms. Crowley bolted out of the chair.

“The roast!”

“It’s fine. I got it before it burned.”

“Thank you,” she said those words so easily to Aziraphale anymore. Nobody else would ever hear them. 

Stopping to hug him closely, she headed to the cupboards to get the dishes out. Aziraphale headed to slice up the roast while Crowley set the table. He popped a few small pieces in his mouth as he worked, knowing the meaning behind her cooking and appreciating what she couldn’t put into words.

“I’m not that hungry,” she said, staring at her plate with serpentine eyes. 

“You need to eat, love. If only for the baby.”

Crowley forced a smile. “Bet those are words you never thought you’d say.”

“Just eat a bit and I’ll draw you a bath,” replied Aziraphale. “With lots of bubbles.”

“You put bubbles in it and I’ll find a way to transfer this kid to you so you can go through the delight that is childbirth.” There was that attitude, showing itself for the first time in a while.

Miraculously Aziraphale was able to keep the conversation light throughout dinner. Once they finished he kept his promise of a bath _sans_ bubbles. Crowley insisted he join her. 

He sat behind her in the tub, arms stretched out over her breasts, face was partially buried in her hair. She was running her fingers along his forearms. Aziraphale took her hand in his and squeezed. 

“This feels good on my ancient back,” Crowley muttered. “I’m too old to be having children.”

“I’m going to have to find a way to keep a baby out of my manuscripts once she starts crawling.”

“Put them on high shelves. Imagine a baby seat in the back of the Bentley. Of course, there’s been a baby in it before.” Crowley’s breath hitched and she went quiet.

“What’s wrong?”

“Are we going to have her that long?”

“We’re going to have her for eternity.”

~*~*~

Lailah whirled as she smelled the distinct odor of demon off the guy she was passing on the street in front of the bookshop. Swiftly grabbing the offending figure by the coat, she dragged him into a nearby alley for a discussion. A dagger at his throat kept him from trying to rip into her.

“Why are you here? Nobody told me we were patrolling yet and I’m assigned to watch the bookshop.”

“I’m on your side! I know who you are and what you’re up to,” The demon’s arms were raised, his eyes panicked looking. “We’ve heard whispers of resistance among the angels. That they’ve been guarding the bookshop there, so I’ve been up observing.”

Her green eyes narrowing, Lailah dug the dagger in. “Why? What are the Head Offices up to?”

He shrank away from that blade, wanting nothing to do with it. “Nothing yet! They’re not even scouting out the place here. We just announced to the lower-ranking demons the plan.”

“And?”

“I decided to form our own resistance . . . Will you put that blasted thing away so I can talk to you? . . . If there’s no Earth, there’s nothing to do. We’ll be at each other’s throats next then the winner will end up spending the rest of eternity fighting against the others because there’s nothing else to do. We’ll just fight each other into extinction then.”

“What? Let me get this straight,” Lailah paused a moment. “You’re saying since Earth will be destroyed, there’s no more wiling and thwarting.”

“Yeah.”

“Heaven and Hell will get bored without their preferred activities.”

“Yeah.”

“They’ll turn on each other and start another war.”

“Yeah.”

“Then there will be one side left – endless Heaven or endless Hell. But nobody will have anything to do, so eventually the individuals of the remaining side will start fighting each other until nothing’s left?”

“Yeah.”

“Ok. Not bad as theories go, I guess.” Lailah turned it over in her mind. He did have a point. 

Angels had little imagination and she suspected demons were no different. They wouldn’t be inventing hobbies to take up their extra free time. They’d be getting on each other’s nerves. 

The angels really didn’t interact with the souls in Heaven. Those had their own section where they had their own little slice of Paradise, whatever they considered that to be. She figured demons would get bored torturing a captive audience. The game was in convincing a human to turn towards evil or good. There was sport in that thanks to free will because you never knew how it was going to turn out.

The Realms were dependent on each other and Earth to survive. _Great. That just make winning this all that more imperative._

“Ok, you found me. I’m heading the resistance Upstairs. You’d better not be lying to me because after that little convoluted explanation, I’m trusting you.”

“I am serious! I promise! I’m Ligur and I was trapped as a half-formed spirit after the almost Apocalypse because the Antichrist made a mistake and didn’t fully bring me back. Do you know what it’s like to spend months with nothing to do? Nowhere to do? That’s what we’re facing if we allow another War. As much as I don’t want to liaison with angels or aid Crowley and his lover, it’s a better option than Hell either being destroyed or tearing itself apart with boredom.”

 _Not the most clever, but he gets it, I guess._ She sighed. He’d have to do. “Fine, we’ll coordinate. Let’s go somewhere to talk and God help you if you double cross me. I’ll smite you so hard you won’t even come back as a half-formed spirit.” 

Such irony. Heaven and Hell were going to be cooperating on two different levels.

~*~*~

Back in Heaven, which Lailah made the excuse of returning once in a while to file reports, she slipped the information to her second-in-charge, Remiel. 

“I didn’t tell him anything more than I’m part of it to protect all of you. He’s got to prove that he’s trustworthy, but based on his stated beliefs I think he is.” She passed a folder to her. “Here’s all the information I have on everything. I did ask around among the others to confirm his identity and he’s not lying about that. A few of ours have had tangles with him in the past. This is big. If they can be trusted, we can liaison with them.”

“I hope they can be,” Remiel replied. “We can use all the help we can get.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, Ligur misgenders Crowley. I doubt he cares much about pronouns and since Crowley presents male more than female, it's probably just natural to Ligur to use male ones.
> 
> 14 Oct. -- I'm very sick right now and probably not going to be on much. I usually try to answer comments pretty promptly, but I might not this week. Thanks for reading and your patience!


	16. All We Hope For

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She's here!

_Almost Time_

Aziraphale and Crowley transported directly to the small cottage near the sea. It was a late decision to get out of London where a skirmish could have human casualties and find something in a more rural location, which meant Aziraphale absolutely did not want Crowley driving long distances. Crowley had wished the Bentley down and once again stuck it in a bubble dimension because there was no way she was leaving the vehicular love of her life unattended in London. A magically-created second-rate version sat in its usual parking spot by the bookshop to throw off hostile forces.

It was a quaint rented place, furnished more to Aziraphale’s tastes that Crowley’s, but Crowley had also wished the plants down because leaving them meant they’d end up dead. They lined the sitting room except for the ones Aziraphale rescued. Those were hidden away in one of the bedrooms. It would be too good for morale if Crowley’s browbeaten greenery saw those who were supposedly banished.

It was so quiet here. Peaceful. The gardens were inspiring Crowley’s imagination. The property backed up on to its own private beach where she spent time with her eyes closed as she listened to the soothing sound of waves breaking softly upon the sand, thinking of all the wonderful changes she could wrought upon those gardens, if only to keep her mind off of everything going on.

Aziraphale had filled the bookshelves with a few selections. If he needed more, someone could always being them down to him, as a few angels and demons stayed in London to keep an eye on the bookshop. The alliance was working out nicely with few arguments. It was surprising how well the two sides actually got on when united against a common enemy.

Angels and demons alike protected the cottage as well, using the small guesthouse as a headquarters of sorts. Several were always patrolling the property while the rest onsite stayed on call for when things really started to hit to fan. Others hung around in the nearby town keeping their eyes open for signs either Heaven or Hell was starting to put plans into motion. The rest stayed stationed in their respective Realms, awaiting the call for help.

“How are you holding up, my dear?” Aziraphale asked once they had settled in.

Crowley was understandably nervous, as was Aziraphale, and the two of them rarely left each other’s sides anymore. They felt trapped, like cornered prey, and even the addition of renegade demons to the ranks outside willing to protect them didn’t do much to make the apprehension go away. They were still facing impossible odds.

“I’m fine. For a given definition of fine, anyway,” replied Crowley. She had taken to restlessly pacing and watching out the windows if something wasn’t occupying her time.

“Lailah wishes to check you over.” 

Crowley rolled her eyes. “Again? She’s doing that once a week.”

“That’s the point,” replied Aziraphale motioning the midwife angel in. “At least it’s not as invasive as what human mothers-to-be have to go through at this stage. Imagine having to not only go into a doctor’s office to get poked at, but having to let them test your urine every time, too.”

“Thank the green earth I don’t pee. And why do you know this stuff? It’s disgusting.”

Crowley dramatically flopped on the couch to let Lailah magically check up on the baby. Aziraphale left the crowded space to give them more room. Lailah was polite enough about it to be quick. She got what information she needed and thanked Crowley.

“The baby’s dropping. No signs of any human diseases or disorders like diabetes or preeclampsia, not that I was expecting any since you’re not human. Your cervix is starting to efface and dilate so it won’t be long now.”

“I don’t even know what that means.”

“You really should. Didn’t you ever look at the pregnancy guides Aziraphale has?” Lailah asked.

“No, she didn’t. I know more about her current reproductive setup than she does,” Aziraphale replied, coming in from the kitchen with a cup of cocoa.

“Comments like that are not appreciated,” snapped Crowley. “It’s not like I’m going to have any reproductive setup for long, anyway.”

“No, but it would be helpful for you to know what’s going to happen during labour,” countered Aziraphale.

Crowley just rolled her eyes and curled her lip up into a sneer. “I think I can figure out how to push a kid out.”

Lailah just gave up, heading for the kitchen to make herself some latte. She practically lived here with them nowadays and it was just decided she was welcome to help herself to anything she needed. The espresso machine she brought along was a good idea. She never felt so in need of human coffee drinks as she did recently, not for the caffeine, but they had become her version of comfort food.

She heard Crowley stamp out the backdoor in the mudroom off the kitchen as she fiddled with the machine, creating her latte. Aziraphale soon followed, as Crowley was basically guarded twenty-four/seven these days, much to her annoyance.

“I’ll work on her,” he said he passed through. “She’s frightened by all this so she doesn’t want to know. At least you’re experienced in midwifery and I’ve done some studying.”

Lailah nodded. “Oh, Aziraphale? I’m going to have to let Heaven know about the move soon. There’s just no getting around it.”

He gave her an understanding look. “I know you have to cover your tracks. Don’t feel guilty about it, all right?”

Outside, Aziraphale kept the waddling form of Crowley in view as she headed down towards the beach to stand near the surf and listen to the waves. It didn’t take her long before she took off her shoes and pushed up the leggings she had taken to wearing for comfort’s sake. Wading partially into the ocean, she let the waves roll over her feet as the wind whipped her long red hair around behind her. It didn’t matter it was too cold for wading as she had ways of keeping her legs warm. 

“You should let me brush it after this. It’s going to be tangled something frightful thanks to the wind,” Aziraphale said as he approached. “Feral demon might have been fashionable when you flirted with me back in Mesopotamia, but styles have changed.”

“I wasn’t flirting. I just wondered what happened after you gave your sword away.”

“Right.”

“I didn’t think you’d threaten me with it six thousands later.”

“I threatened to never talk to you again. You’re terribly prickly today.”

“I have little reason to be in a good mood these days.”

“I know, my dear. I truly know.”

They stood there together in the surf, Aziraphale looking a bit ridiculous with his trousers rolled up and his pale legs showing. 

“Aziraphale? If we make it through this mess, would you do something for me?” Crowley asked, holding his hand.

“What?”

“Get a tan.”

~*~*~

“They have moved temporarily out of London a week or so ago to a small town in the south of the country.” Uriel pulled up a map on her tablet and pointed it out. “Here.”

Gabriel nodded, a little put out. “Why didn’t Lailah let us know that sooner? She’s supposed to be keeping an eye on things.”

“Lailah sent up a message today that she’s basically living with them and is finding it hard to actually slip away since they think she’s there in a midwife capacity.”

The other Archangel mulled this over a moment. “True. I didn’t think of that. I’m hesitant about sending someone else down there, though. I don’t want to tip those two off or anything. We’ll just send someone down once in a while to collect messages. But the birth shouldn’t be too far off now.”

~*~*~

Beelzebub looked at the map before her, sent down by Gabriel, Dagon peering at it over her shoulder. 

“Oceanfront property’s very nice,” commented Dagon, who rather enjoyed the water.

“Does it matter? Inform the troops of the change of location. This is going down very soon.”

~*~*~

Crowley got up early, unable to sleep thanks to the rhythmic kicking of the baby mixed with her own inability to get comfortable in any position anymore these days. Even a simple function such as breathing took effort due a pair of tiny legs cramming everything into her upper abdominal cavity. She swore she would have given it up except for the possibility that the baby needed oxygen. Maybe she could just get rid of a few useless organs. Supernatural beings didn’t require spleens or gallbladders. Humans barely did themselves.

This whole pregnancy had been a pain in the arse thanks to it being the first ever for their species. They had to treat it like a human pregnancy just in case little things like alcohol consumption and breathing mattered, leaving Crowley in a constant state of barely-contained irritation these days.

It was so much easier to pop into existence as a fully-functioning, albeit naïve, adult. Less work for other people. Although those first few years were a bitch for all concerned considering how stupid every single one of them was without any life experiences. Magic was innate now but it sure wasn’t way back before Time began.

She was in the kitchen slamming cookware around as she busied herself making breakfast for her and Aziraphale. Lailah may have downed coffee like an addict, but she didn’t bother with eating. Crowley glared at her espresso maker that took up room in _Crowley’s_ kitchen. Its presence vexed the demon.

Heaven above, she missed coffee. _Real_ coffee, not that decaf stuff Aziraphale insisted she drink.

She fried some eggs and made toast for breakfast, pondering adding some bacon or sausage to it, then deciding against it unless Aziraphale was in the mood for them. Grabbing the kettle, she filled it with water and put it on the stove to heat as she heard the angel rattling around in the bedroom. 

“Morning, my dear.” Aziraphale entered, coming over to plant kisses on her as she worked.

“Morning. I guess. I feel like a bloody housewife.”

Aziraphale guided her to the old oak table occupying one corner of the kitchen. “Sit down. I’ll get everything from here.”

He plated everything, got mugs ready for tea and brought it all to the table where Crowley sat with a strange look on her face. He set things down, giving her a concerned look in return. 

“Are you all right?”

“I don’t know. It just might be more of those Braxton-Hicks contractions. Hey look, I used the correct term. I _do_ know something.” She rose from the chair to walk around because doing so always got rid of the fake contractions. 

When she sat back down after a ten-minute walk around the cottage’s interior, Aziraphale raised a questioning eyebrow at her.

“I don’t know. I haven’t had another yet.” She picked up her fork and started to get some food into herself just in case this was the Real Deal. Even if she, as an infernal spirit, didn’t exactly need the fuel food provided, her very human-acting body did. Pregnancy had changed everything – sleeping and eating were done not only because she wanted to, but because she needed to, as bizarre as that felt.

Really, if it weren’t for the trouble they were facing as soon as this kid was born, she’d magically kick start labour. Her due date had passed a week ago telling her that the bun in the oven was done, just being stubborn. In this case, Crowley didn’t blame the kid.

Aziraphale spent the rest of breakfast looking concerned. He cleared the table and suggested to Crowley they walk around the gardens. Crowley reluctantly agreed, but warmed up to the idea as soon as she got out there and was able to sardonically critique the gardening skills of whoever chose the plants along the front walk. Aziraphale just patiently listened to the ranting while waiting for another contraction to happen, or not.

“That’s another one, isn’t it, Crowley?” he asked quietly as she spent a good sixty seconds looking uncomfortable while trying to act nonchalant about it.

“No, it’s not. She’s not coming out. I will spend the rest of my fucking existence pregnant if I have to.”

He could see the unshed tears in her eyes, taking a moment to gather the scared Crowley into his arms, cradling her gently. “Oh, my wonderfully brave demon, you’ve been through so much, but we don’t have any choice in this. Try not to worry too much because there are those out there willing to protect us. They’re not going to take her . . . not our child.”

He convinced her to keep walking with him and they did so in near silence for about an hour with Crowley clinging to him, her worried state very palpable. The contractions were coming every fifteen minutes. This was no dress rehearsal; the baby was on her way. 

“Come on, my dear. Let’s go inside so I can find Lailah. She’s going to want to know.”

After informing Lailah, who said she’d be in the cottage but would stay out of the way until labour was active, Aziraphale sat Crowley on the couch, straddling her from behind so he could brush out her hair. Playing with the demon’s hair always calmed her down plus it needed to be up out of the way for the events to come.

Brushing all of it smooth, he separated it into three sections then skillfully plaited it into a braid that ran down between her shoulder blades. By the time he was finished, a little less tension was coming off of her. It was a start. Too bad he couldn’t keep his own apprehension down, but he knew there was a good chance he’d be out there with a weapon defending his spouse and child. Despite holding a sword a little over a year ago, he hadn’t really used one in over six thousand years and even then it was just training. He pushed down the panicked feeling creeping up on him before it affected Crowley who very shortly now was going to have a lot on her plate.

~*~*~

The door slammed behind Lailah as she streaked out of the house to find whoever happened to be on duty. She ran across a pair – an angel and a demon – who were out patrolling the edges of the property. 

“It’s time! Get everyone here as soon as possible!”

“We’re on it.” The demon, whose name was Marpas and was considered by Crowley to be one of the more likeable citizens of Downstairs, ran off towards the guesthouse while the angel, Sablon, disappeared, transporting to town to collect those staying there. He’d also find a couple of volunteers to get messages to those who had to stay stationed at their jobs in the two Realms.

Lailah felt sick to her stomach. It all came down to this and they had a minority of Heaven and Hell’s population to stand against the troops that were going to start gathering here as soon as they were commanded to.

“God, if you can hear me, please help us out here. They’re still trying to end the world You created.”

~*~*~

It had been many hours since contractions started. Aziraphale had Crowley up walking around, encouraging her to stay active even though the contractions were coming closer together and getting more painful. She paused, leaning on him as another hit her. 

“Breathe through it, my dear. You can block most of the pain; you just need to leave enough so that you can feel the contractions.” Aziraphale held himself steady as she clung to his arm. 

“I’m finding it hard to do much of anything right now, angel,” she hissed, her grip on him easing up as the contraction finally came to an end.

“Four minutes apart now,” Aziraphale said, trying to keep the worry out of his voice. “Let’s go sit you down for a moment so I can go get Lailah.”

~*~*~

Outside, the forces determined to protect Aziraphale and Crowley’s progeny gathered, surrounding the cottage and filling the entire property with both angels and demons determined to prevent a war. 

It did not go unnoticed by the Head Offices of both Heaven and Hell.

Hastur, who had decided not to join Ligur on the rebels’ side, but did nothing to prevent it, was meeting with Beelzebub. His job was to run everything Downstairs with Dagon, coordinating the demons before they headed up to Earth, then join them up at the cottage when the troops had been prepped for deployment.

“There are reports of angels and demons gathering around the cottage. Someone’s raised a bit of a resistance, but it doesn’t look to be too many. We should be able to get through them with no trouble,” he said.

“Start getting the troops ready, Hastur,” commanded Beelzebub as she prepared to head topside herself to meet with Gabriel. “I need to let the other side know what’s going on.”

She marched off towards the lift.

Hastur himself left to find Ligur who had his own duties to perform in the War, although Hastur remained unsure if he was going to sabotage them or not. He found Ligur in an office, sorting through paperwork while communicating with the Archangel Michael on the phone.

“I tell you our Earth observation recordings do not show that. I know they don’t work the best, but I have absolutely no record of it. Call you back. There’s one more place I can check.”

“You’d better not be sabotaging things.”

Ligur gave him a look. “I’m not. I volunteered for archive duty. Keeps me from having to.”

“Call off your troops. You may be my best mate, but I’m not comfortable with what you’re up to,” said Hastur.

“I can’t. It’s out of my hands for now. They’re up there doing their thing and I passed leadership on to my second in command until I’m done here and can join them.” Ligur went back to digging through a beat up old file cabinet that had most definitely seen better days.

“I know you’re right, but we have to respect the chain of command.” Hastur walked out. “I’ll talk to you after we’ve gotten ahold of the brat.”

Their friendship would survive. It always did. 

~*~*~

Two armies faced each other, the one facing the cottage vastly more massive than the one surrounding it, protecting its occupants. Occasionally skirmishes broke out, but for the most part they waited as tensions rose.

Off to the back of the property, Beelzebub and Gabriel waited with them. Hastur joined them a little while later after Hell had emptied of its chosen troops. The rest waited Downstairs, led by Dagon, since there was not room on the property for every demon in existence. 

~*~*~

The contractions had become too strong for Crowley to be active through. She sat on the bed propped up by pillows while Lailah made preparations. Aziraphale was bedside, rubbing Crowley’s back, holding her hand, or stroking the wisps of hair that had come loose from her braid out of her face. Whatever she needed. Crowley was spent, laying back on the pillows, panting in her exhaustion as another contraction surged through her abdomen. Aziraphale, feeling completely helpless, held her hand tightly and reminded her to breathe.

The demon had used a bit of magic to take the edge off the pain, but no more. Aziraphale confused as to why. Crowley had looked at him after breathing through a contraction and whispered a reply.

“Maybe if they feel my pain, they’ll understand she belongs with us.”

She was using her powers to project her pain and misery out on to those gathered outside. Aziraphale doubted it would matter, but since Crowley had such limited ways to fight right now he didn’t discourage her. She was in enough distress without him adding to it.

“It’ll be time to push soon,” Lailah said. “Everything’s gone great so far. We’re almost there.”

“I don’t want to push,” said Crowley mournfully, as Aziraphale stroked her hair and looked helplessly at Lailah. “They’ll take her.”

“Crowley, the best fighters are in the cottage, guarding us. We’re protected. Nobody’s going to take the baby,” Lailah replied. “She can’t just stay inside you forever. You need to get her out. Let’s get you into a chair. It’ll make things easier.”

~*~*~

“It’s happening,” Beelzebub said to Gabriel. “Let’s get inside.”

The two moved towards the cottage. Hastur stayed behind with a high-ranking angel to keep the troops in line.

They didn’t expect to find Ligur standing at the backdoor of the cottage. 

“No,” he said. “You don’t understand what madness this is. Just go back before it’s too late because this will only end in both Realms finishing each other off.”

He tried, but it was two powerful entities against a mere Duke. Eventually he could take no more, transporting himself out of the area before the two of them tore his spirit to shreds. He reappeared by his second in command, telling them what was going on.

Fighting broke out as the rebels tried to get more of their best fighters into the cottage.

“We can’t get in,” one reported after a moment or two. “They’ve warded the place. We can’t even transport in.”

Ligur attempted himself, feeling the spell fail him. He swore, hoping those inside had the ability to keep Gabriel and Beelzebub from completing their mission.

~*~*~

Aziraphale was standing in the doorway to the bedroom, sword in hand, ignited. His face was hardened, looking little like the perpetually flustered angel Gabriel was used to seeing in his presence. He had never seen such cold blue eyes full of rage on the Principality.

“You will leave and take your armies with you. The child is not for you.”

Gabriel attempted to approach, all confidence in his bespoke suit and cashmere scarf. “Aziraphale, you know why you must hand the child over. This is penance for your actions. You and Crowley averted the first attempt at war. Now you’re going to help start the second.”

“If this wasn’t part of the Great Plan, our spell would have never worked,” added Beelzebub. 

“No,” Aziraphale simply said. “The spell worked because it was written correctly, not because the ineffable Plan wanted it to. You don’t see it do you? You two _still_ don’t see it. The Plan is not for you to control.”

He held them off with the flaming sword while other urgent events took place in further in the room. 

“Out!” screamed Lailah. “This is not the place for a fight!”

Neither one of them moved. Aziraphale stepped closer even though he knew he didn’t stand a chance. They were powerful enough to defeat the guards in the cottage, some of their best fighters. He was just a Principality up against an Archangel and a Lord of Hell who’d attack the moment the baby was born. But he’d go down protecting what he loved.

“I’m sorry, Crowley. I’m sorry they had to interrupt what should have been a wonderful experience, but I need to you push now. Aziraphale’s protecting you. You just need to concentrate on this, ok?” Lailah looked into those serpentine eyes and hoped what she was saying was getting through.

Crowley screwed her eyes shut as she repeated “No” like a mantra that would keep all that was happening around her at bay. She reached out for Aziraphale, wanting him there despite him having to take up arms against Beelzebub and Gabriel. Someone took his place, folding Crowley’s hand into their own. Lailah, staring in awe, had stepped back from her position crouching beside the chair’s arm pleading with Crowley to push.

“Push, Anthos. Everything will be fine.”

The demon opened her eyes in shock at the sound of that voice.

Crowley gazed upon a familiar face with long, grey hair swathed in a white veil. A face last seen in a dream in Paris. She tried not to pull her hand back surprise instead allowing it to stay there limp in the Almighty’s grasp.

“You didn’t think I was going to miss the birth of the closest thing I’m ever going to have to a grandchild, did you? I didn’t exactly get to be there when Adam was born. I hear he’s growing into a fine young man. You two will do just as well with yours.” 

Suddenly Aziraphale was at her other side, smiling as he grabbed her free hand, Lailah crouched in front of her ready to continue the duties of a midwife. Giving up her resistance, Crowley did what needed to be done. It wasn’t long before cries filled the air.

~*~*~

The tiny newborn lay wrapped in a white blanket in Crowley’s arms while both she and Aziraphale stared in wonder at her. Lailah finished up the business end of midwifery, trying to ignore the unexpected extra presence in the room that would just give her a case of the nerves if she was to acknowledge Her while trying to work. There would be time for that once the baby’s and Crowley’s needs were taken care of.

“May I see her for a few moments?” God asked the new parents. “I believe I have a point to make.”

“Of course, Lord,” stammered Aziraphale. Who was going to deny a request from Her?

Crowley was not sure she should say anything, therefore; kept quiet. It was weird enough right now knowing God had been one of her birthing coaches.

God carefully took the infant, cradling her gently in her arms. 

“You two,” she said sternly to Gabriel and Beelzebub, who were waiting meekly outside in the hallway. “With Me.”

With those words, the Almighty swept out the door followed by the two unwelcome guests.

Out on the lawn in front of a multitude of angels and demons, She held the baby for all the see.

“I decree this child and her parents are to be left alone forever. What you have done has gone against my Plan for the world, for angels and for demons.” Her voice carried without effort to every ear. “It was not for you to create supernatural beings. That is My job. It was not for you to saddle Crowley and Aziraphale with such responsibilities as you have by using that spell on them, but I know they will rise to the challenge. They deserve their happiness and _will_ be allowed to live in peace. The next being to mess with them will have to deal with Me. Don’t fool yourselves . . . I _will_ be keeping an eye on things. Apparently I have to return to Heaven for a bit since some angels and demons have proven they cannot behave better than children. This really could mess with free will, you know.”

She turned to the rebels. “Thank you for what you did here today. There shall be a reward for those who opposed this plan. Promotions are in order. I hear some Archangel positions are coming open. And maybe there are Fallen who can be forgiven, if they so choose.”

Cradling the impossible child close, she said one final thing. “This is the last time this will happen. The world will end someday. That is a given because nothing endures forever, but it will end on _My_ schedule, in _My_ way, which isn’t going to involve _My_ Creations battling it out again. Forget what was written because I didn’t write it. Any more attempts and I will hide Earth from the two Realms, understand?”

Every angel and demon whether they were there or waiting in the celestial/infernal plane heard and understood.

~*~*~

“She’s lovely,” said the Almighty as She handed the baby over to Aziraphale, who had watched what happened from the front window. “You’ll do just fine. She’ll act human at first until she gets old enough to figure out her spirit can keep her body alive without all those human needs, so prepare for midnight feedings and diaper changes . . . wait . . . that would be nappy changes here . . . all these dialects to remember . . . And the cottage is yours. You two could use a nice quiet place to spend weekends. I’ll leave the deed on the kitchen table. Do tell Crowley I have faith in her, too.”

She disappeared in a shimmer of light before Aziraphale could reply. He stood there a moment in a bit of shock, holding a child he never remotely dreamed of having while heading back to the bedroom where the demon who gave birth to her awaited them. Crowley look exhausted from the whole ordeal although she appeared to be in no danger of falling asleep.

He sat down in shock on the edge of the bed where Crowley lay propped up on pillows. Softly he said to his spouse, “She’s very alert. I figured you’d want to meet her properly now that everything’s calmed down.”

Crowley smiled at him, sitting up further to look at their child. “Hi. Well, here you are. Don’t expect any siblings because I’m _not_ doing that again.”

Sliding on to the bed, Aziraphale sat beside her, both of them examining the baby closely.

“A bit of hair. Strawberry blonde.”

“Did you see her eyes? She has flecks of gold in that blue.”

It went on like that for a while until Lailah entered with a bottle. Aziraphale handed the baby to Crowley.

“You did all the difficult stuff. You do the honors.”

Crowley smiled again and took the bottle.

Feeling Lailah tap his shoulder gentle, Aziraphale turned towards her.

“I’m staying until Crowley heals herself just to be on the safe side. I doubt there’ll be a problem though. Congrats, you two.” She slipped out to give them all time alone. 

They hadn’t set up a nursery; the thought of not being able to use it had been too painful. That was now in the plans. They first laid her down in a hastily conjured bassinet after her bottle, but putting her down was unbearable after coming so close to losing her. She lay instead, in Crowley’s arms, swaddled in the white blanket, now with a matching white hat, looking for the world so perfectly normal as if two factions of supernatural beings weren’t prepared to fight over her future less than half an hour earlier.

“She needs a name,” whispered Crowley as she leaned against Aziraphale. “What do you think of Rowan? It’s unisex and it goes with that hair.”

“Rowan,” Aziraphale repeated, testing the name out for himself. “Now why didn’t you tell me you were thinking of names?”

“Because I wasn’t. It just came to me now.”

“I like it.”

Rowan trees bloomed white, then produced red berries – white for the celestial portion of her, red for the infernal, just like the colors Aziraphale had picked out for their ring exchange ceremony. It seemed appropriate.

“You are so going to dress her in pink and frills, aren’t you?”

“Crowley, you just can’t dress a baby in black.”

“Watch me. Listen, I’m too tired to argue the point with you right now. I’m going to spend time with our baby until she falls asleep, take a nap, then think about healing myself and getting back to a form I’m more familiar with. You’re welcome to stay as long as you’re quiet.”

Aziraphale snuggled in next to her, still not believing that everything had turned out perfectly. Nobody would ever dare touch them now; not even Hell would dare incur God’s wrath. He allowed himself to feel real happiness for the first time in several stressful months.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t know quite how to explain it, but sometimes characters write themselves and I just happen to be the one at the keyboard typing it out because they can’t do it themselves. That’s Aziraphale in these last few chapters. I have fallen in love with him all over again because he stepped up when things were looking impossible and was there for Crowley when she needed him. And yes, it sounds weird to be talking about a character whose motivations and actions came out of my head like that.
> 
> And this storyline, to be honest, came out of Chapter Nine when they were making love on the cliff and Crowley made the remarks about clutching winged serpents. What was supposed to just be a one-shot piece of dialogue became a plot line.
> 
> Why a daughter? First it throws another gender in the mix because both her parents present as male the majority of the time. Second, I like the idea of Aziraphale being all thrilled he has a baby he can dress up in all kinds of frilly little dresses, bonnets, etc. (Let’s face it, there’s still a lot of social backlash if you don’t dress a baby according to the gender assigned at birth and while that would be interesting to explore from the point of view of two genderless beings raising a third genderless being, it’s something for another story since I’m winding this one down). Meanwhile Crowley’s going to be gritting his teeth and rolling his eyes silently because while it annoys the hell out of him, it makes his spouse happy.
> 
> I wanted to put in some interaction between Ligur and our ineffable spouses, but I couldn't make it work without it looking extremely awkward. That just wouldn't do when I wanted the focus to be on the birth and the events surrounding it.


	17. Settling In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Raising an angel/demon hybrid isn't always easy. What do you do when she starts to manifest her powers?

“Did you know Rowan has an immortal soul?” Lailah asked as she prepared to take her leave of the three of them, puzzled as to why a being gifted with eternal life required one.

“Well, that’s an interesting development,” commented Aziraphale, giving her a nervous, flustered smile. “I guess you’re going to have to ask the Almighty why that is.” 

Crowley, returned to presenting as male, but keeping the shoulder-length hair he knew Aziraphale so adored, shrugged as Lailah raised a questioning eyebrow at him.

“Hey, don’t look at me. I’m still trying to process everything that’s happened in the last nine months. I have enough to wonder about.”

“You two are more in the know that you’re saying. Don’t think for one minute think I didn’t notice you have them, too.” She hugged them both, gave Rowan in her bassinet a kiss, and prepared to return to Heaven.

“Stop by anytime you want,” Aziraphale called as she let herself out the backdoor to fly up to the celestial plane. “And thank you!”

Crowley looked down at the sleeping infant in her bassinet, a tender smile on his face. “I made that.”

“Not alone you didn’t.”

“You get back to me when you do more in a pregnancy than contribute a sperm cell.”

“Fine. I’m not going to argue with you over it.” Aziraphale reached over to kiss him. “We should think about getting home to London. We have a nursery to plan.”

“We’ve one to plan here, too.” Crowley strolled off towards the extra room nearest the master bedroom, Aziraphale trailing behind.

“Allow me this one?” the angel asked. Crowley nodded. 

He stood there in the doorway a moment before snapping his fingers. The room shifted, now containing décor created of red and white. A white cot with white bedding stood in a corner with a matching chair and ottoman in the other. Against the wall with the window was a changing table. The walls were painted to resemble a rose garden, complete with fabric sculpture roses of red and white attached to the rose bushes. The carpet was the exact color of the greenest grass and clouds danced along the top of the walls and blue ceiling.

“Not bad,” commented an impressed Crowley. “No tartan.”

“Oh, hush. Let’s get packed to go back.”

“A baby seat in the Bentley. Who knew that day would ever come?” 

~*~*~

It never felt so good to return to London. Aziraphale carried Rowan in, bursting with excitement at what life now offered – happiness and an unexpected surprise in the baby. It’s not that he hadn’t experienced contentment in his existence. It just felt so complete now that they wouldn’t have to worry about Heaven, Hell, breathing space and future Wars. Their love was no longer forbidden, nor did they have to worry about retribution for not being the ideal examples of their respective sides. Less than two years ago he clung to the false hope that his side would want him back. Now, Heaven was of little consequence in his life as he openly forged his own side with Crowley. How quickly one’s beliefs could change.

“You’re too young to read yet, my darling, but I will be teaching you to love books,” he told the sleeping infant tucked safely in her car carrier. “With any luck, your other dad won’t be teaching you to wile.”

“I heard that!” Crowley strolled in, closing the bookshop’s front door behind him. He bounded up the stairs. “I get to design this nursery!”

Aziraphale gave him a chance to work his magic instead concentrating on figuring out just how to get Rowan out of her car seat then finally succeeding in figuring out the straps without resorting to his powers. She was starting to get fussy, so he picked her up, rocking her a bit as he cradled her in his arms, grateful for the chance to even hold her. How close they were to losing the baby to opposing forces without the Almighty’s intervention. He wished he had the chance to thank Her, but She probably knew how grateful he was.

“Ok!” came Crowley’s voice from above. “Come up and see!”

He had created a garden in the extra bedroom, but not like the rose garden of the cottage’s nursery. Aziraphale looked around at the verdant paintings of trees and other greenery that covered the walls. Here and there, animals made an appearance in the lush forest. A familiar waterfall covered one entire corner of the nursery mural. Eden. Crowley had recreated Eden in their daughter’s room. The rocking chair was upholstered in green fabric while the cot and changing table were of glossy, varnished dark wood. The bedding in the cot featured a vine motif.

Astounded, the angel looked at his husband. “Really?”

Crowley nodded with a smile. “Really. Every adventure we’ve had was because we met there. Even this one.” His long fingers caressed the strawberry blonde head of their child. “She deserves to know her origins.”

Aziraphale went to lay her in her cot and noticed it.

This part of the mural featured a stone wall in the background, just above the cot. Upon the wall stood two small figures of an angel all in white and a demon wearing black and grey. One of the angel’s wings was positioned over the demon’s head. If he looked closely enough, he could see that the demon held the angel’s hand.

~*~*~

Now two months old, Rowan lay in her pram dressed in a pale pink dress with a lacy white bonnet. It was Aziraphale’s day to dress her. Crowley tended towards neutral shades with less frills and tried his best to tolerate Aziraphale’s idea of baby fashion.

“You put tartan on her and we’re going to have a problem,” he had told the angel not long after they returned to London.

“Tartan’s stylish,” retorted Aziraphale, who discreetly included it in pastel shades on headbands with little bows while Crowley pretended not to notice.

They were strolling in the park with her, Aziraphale eager to start giving her experiences. Crowley wondered why since she was not of an age to even remember them but he indulged the angel’s desires anyway. Right now they standing by the pond as Aziraphale tried to show her the ducks.

“She can’t see anything clearly that’s further than eighteen inches from her face according to those books you bought. Why are you bothering?” Crowley asked as he positioned the baby bag – black, stylish and designer – better on his shoulder. Aziraphale had a pastel tartan one he used when he was out alone with the baby.

“Quit ruining my fun,” Aziraphale replied tartly, picking up the baby. “Look Rowan, see the ducks? One of these days you’ll be able to feed them.”

Rowan merely gurgled. 

“Support her head,” Crowley reminded him gently. What phrases came out of his mouth these days!

“Where shall we head for lunch?” Aziraphale asked. “I think she’s getting hungry and so am I.”

“Somewhere we can sit outdoors since we have this stupid pram with us. How about that place we wanted to try last month that’s two blocks from here?”

They managed to walk there with minimal interruptions, this time only two. They had gotten used to being a spectacle when out and about with Rowan. Aziraphale took it in stride, proud of their daughter; Crowley tried his best to keep his irritation under control. He adored the baby but it wasn’t in his personality to be able to handle humans making over her the way they did.

They sat in the relatively nice weather, shaded by the awning of the café, watching the foot traffic pass on the pavement as they waited for their meals to arrive. Crowley had just given her a bottle and was holding her up against his chest patting her back while Aziraphale cooed at her. Crowley was wishing she’d decide to take a nap, giving them the time to talk like adults during their lunch. Some days that seemed such a rarity.

Sleep was not what Rowan had in mind. Wings were. With one sneeze, two unusually coloured wings extended from her back. Aziraphale went wide eyed; Crowley cursed.

“Shit!” Quickly he rendered the tiny black-and-white-mottled wings invisible before anyone noticed anything unusual about the infant. “What are we going to do about that?”

He adjusted the baby so he was holding her further up on his shoulder, with one hand on her head, the other down near the small of her back as those little wings flapped invisibly between them, their primaries tickling Crowley’s fingers.

“I don’t know,” Aziraphale whispered in reply. “I’ve never raised a half angel/half demon hybrid before.”

Almost literally biting his own tongue before he said some hurtful retort, Crowley bounced Rowan a bit, rubbing a hand down the center of her back, hoping it would tickle enough she would react by tucking them away in the celestial plane where they belonged. It worked. Upset by the irritating touch, she snapped her wings back into the right plane then fussed until Crowley gave her a dummy.

“It’s not like we didn’t know she had wings. Interesting how they’ve both black and white. I’d think on a genetic level yours would be white, too. Assuming we had genetics naturally instead of having them bestowed on us by meddling forces. Anyway,” said Aziraphale. “I wonder what we’re going to have to prepare for. I assume she has the same abilities we do.”

“Great,” grumbled Crowley, who was well aware he could and did at times unconsciously warp reality around him in minor ways to his liking. “How do we control that? Or do we hope she’s like the Antichrist and comes into her powers slowly? I don’t think I can handle this, angel. I squeezed her out. You can handle the magical problems. Fair’s fair.”

“Be serious, Crowley.”

“I am being serious.”

“Well, aside from the wings, maybe it won’t be a problem.” Aziraphale pointedly ignored Crowley’s comment, choosing instead to move forward with the conversation. “I would understand if she did a few things unconsciously as she gets older. I don’t think that would start just yet since she’s just . . .”

“A door stop?”

Aziraphale gave him an annoyed look. He took the baby from Crowley as he was the expert in getting her to go to sleep.

“Paper weight?”

“Crowley, really!”

“I’m joking. Calm down, angel, you know I adore that little sprog.”

Their food arrived and talk stopped for a moment while Aziraphale laid Rowan in her pram, hoping she’d stay calm while they at least got a few bites of their lunch in. Crowley kind of gave his food a disgusted look, but tried it anyway.

“I make this better,” he commented.

“If it doesn’t taste good, send it back.”

“I doubt they’re going to make it any better second time around. It’s just not made well and that’s the chef’s skill.”

Aziraphale took a bite of it. “It tastes fine. Do you want to trade?”

“No, I’ll be fine.”

“You’ll sulk.”

They traded. Crowley wasn’t any more impressed by what Aziraphale ordered.

“I don’t like this café.”

“Then we won’t come back. Simple enough.”

Crowley allowed Aziraphale to eat in peace for a while before speaking again. “We have the cottage. It’s nice down there and great for getaways . . . What if we just moved down there for a few years if her powers start to cause problems? It’s isolated so it’ll be easier to deal with the issue until she’s old enough to control them herself.”

Aziraphale gave him a bit of a shocked look, fork paused halfway to his mouth. “I’ve had that bookshop since 1793. I can’t give it up.”

“I’m not asking you to. I’m talking a temporary move. We’d come back as soon as we could and turn the cottage back into a weekend house. You’d just have to close it for a while or have weekend hours only or something.”

The fork Aziraphale was holding was now poking at his entrée uncertainly. “But we’re using the bookshop for income. I’m doing a lot better now. Actually making money.”

Crowley gave him a reassuring smile. “And that’s great, but we have Rowan to think about. We’re going to have to protect her until she’s able to protect herself. It’s a wonderfully stupid world full of clever humans with all the great things they invent and she’s going to have to learn to act human enough to survive in it. She doesn’t have any other options. She can’t just request a transfer to Heaven or Hell if things don’t work out like we could have before we were exiled. She was born into exile. This is her only home.”

Aziraphale still looked uncertain so Crowley pressed on.

“And you know I have no misgivings about wishing up as much money as we need. It’s not like it’s anything more than a bit of cheating. It’s money that gets put into the pockets of humans. That’s a good thing, isn’t it?”

Aziraphale shifted in that uncomfortably indecisive way of his when Crowley was making sense even though the angel disagreed with him.

“This isn’t some temptation I’m asking you to do. This is about our child.”

“I’ll consider it. For her sake.”

~*~*~

“Ow!” cried Crowley, his exclamation followed immediately a squeal of delight from Rowan, who was now six months old.

“What’s wrong?” called Aziraphale called from where he was drying his hair with a towel in the bathroom. Suspecting Crowley was encountering problems, he miracled it dry and headed out to see what was up. 

Crowley was laying in the middle of the lounge floor staring down a curly-haired, cubby-cheeked infant wearing an off-white dress with green skirt that had an embroidered green snake slithering around the top half of it. She screeched again before throwing the toy she was holding.

“She _bit_ me,” Crowley said to Aziraphale indignantly, standing up to show him the two pointed indentations dotted with red on his hand. “She drew _blood_.”

Aziraphale picked Rowan up, tousled the strawberry blonde hair that had grown long enough to cover her ears and get in her eyes, and peered in her mouth. The two teeth she had on the bottom were tiny and shaped more like they belonged in a reptile’s mouth. He shook his head going about fixing the problem with a thought. Back to human-shaped teeth they went.

“You’re not a snake, my darling,” he said giving her head a kiss before setting her down so she could unsteadily crawl all over the carpet, a skill she had just picked up recently. 

“That’s great,” Crowley had gotten rid of the small dents in his hand, but was still grumpy over the incident.

“Well, I guess the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree,” said Aziraphale dryly, pulling a baby’s hairbrush and a hair tie from a container he kept on a shelf in the corner. 

“Funny, angel.”

“I wish you’d put her hair up so she could see.”

“She looks ridiculous with a ponytail on top of her head. It looks like a little curly antenna or something.”

Aziraphale scooped Rowan back up, tickled her tummy until she laughed, then sat down on the couch with her to style her hair. “There you go you can see again. We’re going to have to talk to your other daddy about keeping your hair out of your face, aren’t we?”

Crowley plopped down beside them. “You get good reception with that, Rowan?”

Aziraphale gave him a serious look as Rowan angrily babbled and bent literally over backwards on his lap which was her version of telling them she wanted down. “Ok, there you go. . . And Crowley, I think you’re right. We might have to seriously think of moving to the cottage for a while. The other day she manifested her wings again. Today she’s changed her teeth. What’s next?”

“She had scales on her stomach the other day when I gave her a bath,” Crowley added. 

“Oh yes, she shone with divine light briefly when I took her for a walk last week.”

“She’s picking up our inherent traits.”

“But you’re not a snake. You’re a demon.”

“I think it’s an inherent trait because the Almighty bestowed that shape upon me,” replied Crowley. “Do you remember being new? The time right after we all were created? We were free to figure things out for the most part, as long as we didn’t accidentally set each other on fire or anything. God allowed us time to work everything out before assigning anyone to any serious jobs.”

“Vaguely, but I do recall that. Rowan’s doing that in her own way, isn’t she? Only it’s harder because she’s in a city full of humans and we can’t allow them to see such exploration.” Aziraphale looked over at the baby sitting contentedly among a pile of toys, chewing on the edge of a cardboard book. “I really wish she wouldn’t treat books like that.”

“She’s a baby, Aziraphale. You’re going to have to give her a little wiggle room and keep the first edition Oscar Wildes away from her for a few years. Anyway, you’re getting off the subject.”

Aziraphale sat there with his hands in his lap looking a bit uncomfortable. “Yes, I know. The cottage.”

Crowley knew he was reluctant to leave London. It was one thing to go spend weekend there there; it was another to discuss moving, if only until Rowan got control of things. Of course “temporary move” had no timeline. Neither one of them had absolutely any idea when she would be old enough for that to occur and that made Aziraphale nervous.

He set down roots in London in the late 1500s, leaving only temporarily as assignments required it or for the occasional holiday. Crowley had followed him a few years later, but for the longest time had just maintained a residence there as he ended up spending a few hundred years doing Hell’s bidding all over Europe, returning periodically to London for short spans of time. Aziraphale was reluctant to leave the only home he’d known for so long, more so than Crowley, who had spent more time being transient.

“It’s not forever,” Crowley said. “We can’t have humans noticing she’s different.”

“I know! Can’t we wait until it’s at a point we can’t control it ourselves? What she’s doing isn’t that noticeable yet.”

~*~*~

Aziraphale was down running the bookshop while Crowley made preparations for dinner. Tonight he was poaching salmon to go with ricotta zucchini and an arugula salad, stuff Rowan couldn’t eat yet although she was nine months old.

He pondered what to do for her while sitting her down in her high chair with some puffed cereal to snack on and a couple of toys to play with. She giggled at him and threw half the cereal on the floor.

“Hi!” she said the rest of her speech random babbling.

“Yeah, hi,” replied Crowley wrinkling his nose at her as he got rid of the mess she made with a thought. “So what do you want for dinner, little girl?”

“Dada!”

“Yes, I know. Your grasp of language right now is rather tenuous. Ok, I’ll come up with something. The things I do for you.” He ruffled that strawberry blonde hair while those adoring gold-flecked blue eyes looked up at him.

He thought he could just cook some of the zucchini without skin or putting cheese on it then mash it for her. Staring in the fridge he saw the leftover pasta with marinara sauce he had made for lunch yesterday. It was messy, but she could eat it and it’s not like they had to clean up sauce-covered babies the human way.

A half-hour later, dinner was cooking. He let Rowan out of her high chair taking her to the lounge where her toys were, sitting on the couch while she played. He wanted to get out. It had been about a week and Lailah was always happy to babysit for them. Since they couldn’t outright punish her or the other rebel angels, most of Heaven ostracized her these days, therefore; she enjoyed coming down to Earth to spend time with them. 

He pondered asking her to move in with them when they did go to the cottage. They had the guesthouse she could occupy if she so desired to stay with them. Since her job involved monitoring unborn human children, it was just as easy to do it from Earth as it was to do it from Heaven. Plus, she could see Rowan whenever she wanted.

“C’mon, Rowan. Let’s go talk to your other dad,” Crowley picked up the baby who was standing, using the coffee table as support. She protested at first, quieting when she saw they were leaving the flat.

There were a couple of customers browsing, so Crowley made sure his eyes were normal looking before stepping off the spiral staircase. Aziraphale was standing near the till working on some paperwork. He looked up and smiled as they approached, waving excitedly at Rowan. She clumsily waved back.

“What’s up?” he asked Crowley, taking Rowan for a moment. 

“I was thinking of texting Lailah and seeing if she wanted to watch Rowan for a few hours Friday night so we could get out.”

“That sounds perfectly lovely. I’ll be closing in about half an hour.”

Crowley leaned in to give him a kiss. “Dinner will be ready soon after that, so perfect.” 

True to his word, Aziraphale was entering the flat a little over a half hour later to find Crowley reading to Rowan on the couch and smell delicious scents coming from the kitchen. He sat down next to them.

“It’s been a while since we’ve had salmon.”

“I was in the mood to make it,” Crowley replied. “This one managed to get herself slightly airborne today. Less than half a meter off the ground, thank the green earth, but it’s time. We really need to consider moving before someone sees something.”

Aziraphale looked crestfallen. “I thought things were going better.”

“Me, too. But look, I was thinking. It’s not like you _have_ to close the bookshop. Just transport up every day, maybe be open a couple of less days a week. That’s all.” Crowley passed Rowan to him since she was trying to crawl into his lap anyway. “Oh and Lailah would be very happy to babysit Friday night. There’s another good thing. If we move, we can help Lailah out. You know she’s not happy in Heaven. We can give her a place to stay, companionship and access to her favourite ‘niece’. Getting her out of that situation for a bit while Heaven cools back down might be for the best.”

The angel kissed his daughter’s head and stroked her curly strawberry blonde hair. “We’re going to have to, aren’t we? And look at you. Advocating for an angel.”

Crowley grinned and shrugged. “She did a lot for us. I like her.”

“You also see a built-in babysitter who would do anything to spend time with Rowan. You’re not going to overuse her, understand?”

“I never said anything. _You_ came up with that idea. Now if you’ll excuse me I have dinner to get on the table since it seems I’ve become a househusband, to my own dismay.”


	18. A Night Out and an Invitation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Moving is inevitable, at least it's temporary, and the husbands enjoy a night out.

Friday night Crowley drove the Bentley to the Ritz, much to Aziraphale’s surprise. He certainly wasn’t dressed for that since he was wearing his usual coat, waistcoat and bowtie.

“I thought we were just going to see a film,” he said to Crowley, who wasn’t dressed any fancier than he was.

“I changed my mind. I want a night out and Lailah’s ok with that,” Crowley replied with a grin. 

“Why does Lailah have to be ok with where we’re going?” asked Aziraphale, unclenching his hands from the sides of his seat as Crowley parked the Bentley.

“I got us a room, angel. Now we need to be looking a bit more respectable.”

With a snap of his fingers they were both wearing suits that matched Crowley’s taste. Crowley’s was black with a charcoal grey shirt and red tie. Aziraphale’s was a light grey with a white shirt and sky blue tie. The angel examined his as he got out of the Bentley.

“Do not change it to beige,” snapped Crowley. “Nobody wears a beige suit except during the day and in the summer. Don’t embarrass me. Besides, light grey suits you.”

Crowley came around the Bentley and grabbed him by the tie with a feral grin. Aziraphale raised an eyebrow as his husband pulled him in face to face with him, thinking how handsome he was.

_Mine_ , thought Crowley with loving possessiveness.

“You look sexy.” He leaned in further for a passionate kiss, letting go of the tie so they could embrace.

“So that’s the mood you’re in,” whispered Aziraphale in his ear. “I’m in for quite an evening.”

Dinner was absolutely exquisite as it always was at the Ritz, but since Rowan had been born, any time out alone seemed extra special. They relished the time alone even though neither would have changed a thing about their lives right now.

They checked in after dinner, finding themselves alone on the lift. Crowley leaned into Aziraphale, grabbing his hand. “Sssssso, what are we going to do tonight?”

“Everything,” replied the angel with a smile.

“Ok, sex on the balcony it is.”

“Crowley!”

“Love you, angel,” the demon hissed softly in his ear as the lift dinged and the door opened. 

Aziraphale was surprised their room was only one of the larger king options rather than a suite. Crowley shrugged. 

“We’re only spending the night, so I didn’t splurge on a suite. Hey look at that!” He walked over and ran a finger down an antique blue and white Louis XVI chair. “Remember when this stuff was new?”

“Mmm,” said Aziraphale, noncommittally. He really wasn’t interested in furniture, its age or his own right now.

“I should fuck you in it.”

“Your language leaves much to be desired, my dear.”

“We’re nowhere near a baby who’s learning to speak.”

Aziraphale made the mistake of walking near the sofa. He found himself on it, Crowley straddling his lap, nuzzling into his neck like it had been ages since they touched. One of his arms was thrown around the other side of Aziraphale’s neck, the other sought out Aziraphale’s left hand where a finger traced over his wedding ring. Aziraphale wrapped his free arm around Crowley, enjoying the closeness.

The demon was being clingy. Clinginess meant Crowley was missing touch. Had caring for Rowan so eaten into their couple time that Crowley was feeling neglected? Was that part of this need to get away overnight? Aziraphale felt a twinge of guilt.

“Are you ok? Do we need to have more alone time?”

“I don’t know. It’s just so different now with a kid to care for. I thought it would just be us for eternity. It’s not exactly like we were made to possess fertility. It’s been a bit of a shock.”

“It has.”

“I love her like crazy but . . .”

“It’s ok, my dear. I understand. Tonight is for us since you made these wonderful reservations. We can take twelve or so hours for ourselves.” Aziraphale coaxed Crowley upright and off his lap. “Let’s get these off.”

He unbuttoned Crowley’s suit jacket and slid it off, letting it fall to the floor before taking his own off after slapping Crowley’s hands away. “Let me do this.”

Their ties vanished right before Aziraphale began to work on Crowley’s shirt which soon joined the jackets at the foot of the couch. And so it continued, clothes coming off of both of them until there was nothing left to toss on the pile. 

Getting on his knees, Aziraphale looked up at Crowley, who was staring down at him in puzzlement.

“Angel?”

“Just let me do this for you. You’ve been such a sport with taking care of Rowan and everything while I’ve been running the bookshop,” said Aziraphale. “Please?”

His mouth enclosed Crowley’s erection, gently licking and sucking at first while Crowley closed his serpentine eyes and twined his fingers in his husband’s blond hair. Lovingly he worked while Crowley did his best not to let his knees buckle or his grip tighten. Aziraphale’s hands were back around on his arse, caressing it. Crowley made all kinds of little erotic noises, positive he was destined to go to pieces thanks to all he was feeling right now. The sensations he felt nearly overwhelmed him, reminding him exactly why they engaged in such “unnecessary” activities. Amazing human bodies . . .

“Aziraphale . . . angel . . .” he gasped right before he came, collapsing onto his own knees with the strength of it.

He grabbed his angel and clung on, hugging him tightly as if he would never get the chance again. Crowley kissed him passionately over and over, starting with his lips before traveling elsewhere on his body, never straying far from his mouth where he kept returning. 

“Let me return the favour?”

Crowley lay back on the expensive carpet, next to the impeccable antique furniture, offering himself to his spouse and was taken up on his invitation. Aziraphale entered him gently showing him all the physical love he had to give. Crowley shivered in response, grabbing a hold of his angel with all his limbs, moving his body in rhythm and giving back just as much love as he was getting. 

They clung to each other, Crowley nuzzling into Aziraphale’s clavicle, eating up the emotional attention as much as the physical. The angel went slow this time, sensing Crowley’s need for physical contact. Smiling, Crowley reached up to caress Aziraphale’s cheek and Aziraphale responded by turning his head to kiss his palm. He lowered himself to make as much skin-on-skin contact with his husband as possible. 

_And to think I used to keep this wonderful being at arm’s length because I believed in sides more than him. I hope you can forgive me that, Crowley._

“I love you,” he whispered in Crowley’s ear.

Crowley probably said it back, but he was always rather incomprehensible when they were making love.

They finished up, that inviting king-sized bed sitting empty while they enjoyed each other there on the floor.

“I’m going to have rug burn after that. You?” Crowley had stood up and held out a hand to help Aziraphale up before he twisted an arm up his back to feel for irritations. Nothing needed healing.

“I’m fine, my dear.” The angel took Crowley’s hand. “But I would like to use that bed. A bit of cuddling wouldn’t come amiss.”

Upon standing up he led the demon to it where they lay wrapped completely around each other while kissing, nibbling, stroking hair and simply touching. Aziraphale eventually laid his head on Crowley’s chest, tracing a finger over his stomach. 

“Maybe after a quick nap, sex on the balcony wouldn’t be so bad as long as we camouflage.”

“Am I hearing you correctly, angel?”

“Maybe I’m just a little curious. Hush or I might change my mind,” he replied drowsily, drifting off mere moments later.

Aziraphale awoke a couple of hours later after a restless sleep filled with unsettling dreams to insistent kisses from his spouse. Groggy, he muttered something incomprehensible and sloppily returned the kisses. It didn’t take long for Aziraphale to reach full consciousness and the kissing to reach full-on snogging. 

“Don’t ever leave me,” he whispered in the breaths between kisses, his hands touching Crowley as if he was trying to commit the feel of the demon’s skin to memory.

“What did you dream about, angel? I won’t ever leave you.” Crowley cuddled him reassuringly close. “We’ve six thousand years of history. A friendship that became more. A bond that’s stronger than any other. And I bloody gave birth to your child. I’m not going anywhere even if you do try my patience once in a while.”

Aziraphale snuggled in even closer. “I dreamt about the argument at the bandstand two years ago. You left for Alpha Centauri and I was alone.”

“I don’t think I would have left without you. I’d like to think if I had not found the bookshop on fire, I would have hit you over the head with something and dragged your unconscious body with me. You would have thanked me later. I hope.”

That produced a smile from Aziraphale. “I would have been rather upset with you for kidnapping me, but it wouldn’t have lasted.”

“So,” said Crowley, changing the subject just a bit. “Do I still get balcony sex or has your dream ruined the mood?”

Aziraphale treated him to one of his long-suffering looks. “Really, Crowley?”

Crowley nuzzled him lovingly. “Really. You’re the one who married a selfish, horny demon, not me.”

Aziraphale trailed a finger down his chest, leaving a few light kisses here and there. “Why don’t we ever do it in the back of the . . .”

“No.”

“Sometimes I think you love that car more than me.”

“Nah, just differently.” Crowley slithered out of bed and tried to coax Aziraphale to follow him to the balcony he so wanted to make love on. “C’mon . . .”

Aziraphale sighed as he pulled himself out of the comfortable bed. “The things I do for you.”

“And I cook all your favourite dishes so you can at least thank me. Sex on that balcony is a great way.”

It was not long before Crowley was enveloped in Aziraphale’s tightness thrusting rather gently as they overlooked Mayfair while the sounds of London’s nightlife floated up from the streets below. It felt so good to be out here with the cool night air against his skin, behind Aziraphale who would have been standing on display for all to see had they not made their activities invisible and soundproof. Crowley got off on the thought of Aziraphale’s reaction if the magic failed. Not that he would allow such an occurrence as he would never breach his angel’s trust in him, but it was still a scrumptious fantasy. He leaned in further until his entire chest made contact with his angel’s back, delighting in the breathy, passionate sounds he made as Crowley moved in him.

Feeling mischievous, he licked along the side of Aziraphale’s neck before biting _hard_ causing the angel to yelp in surprise.

“Crowley!” he panted. 

But Crowley just dug his nails more possessively into Aziraphale’s hips and increased his thrusting. Feeling things becoming more passionate, he snaked one hand around to grasp Aziraphale’s very erect cock in his hand, deciding it needed a little attention of its own. The angel pushed upwards into his hand with a groan.

Eventually Crowley’s hand was a mess as Aziraphale loudly moaned out his release. The demon didn’t last much longer, adding his own noises to the air only moments later, this session being much more carnal than the last one. They both fell back into a convenient chair positioned directly behind them. Neither one of them knew if it had come with the hotel or just appeared there thanks to the presence of two beings who could change reality to their liking.

“And nobody’s the wiser,” whispered Crowley as he nibbled his husband’s ear.

He escorted Aziraphale back inside to the warm bed where they snuggled under thick covers until it was time to contemplate another round of sexy fun. They definitely had that on humans . . . they could truly go all night and on into the morning if they so chose to. Crowley felt some smug satisfaction in that.

~*~*~

Lailah looked up from the couch where she was watching some television when the two returned from their night away. “Hi guys. Have a romantic getaway?”

Aziraphale reached out to give Lailah a hug. “Yes, we did. How was Rowan? Was she ok for you? I know she’s getting into a stage where she’s being kind of shy with people.”

“She was just fine. We’re buds.” Lailah looked past Aziraphale. “Hello, Crowley.”

“Hi.” His greeting was short as he was halfway down the hall to the nursery.

“I see he’s back to the short hair,” said Lailah as Aziraphale joined her on the couch.

“Yes. Rowan got grabby so he changed it.” 

“Does he ever keep one style very long?”

“No. And I’ve seen six thousand years of his hairstyles. At least he brushes it now. I don’t think he realized combs had been invented yet back in Mesopotamia, although he also had spent a thousand years drinking his way from Eden to the Ark.” 

Lailah stifled a laugh. “You’re kidding.”

“Not at all. Hell had forgotten about him for a few hundred years so he discovered such human delights as food and alcohol. It escapes me when exactly he picked up the habit of sleeping.”

“What a history you two have,” she said enviously. “I’ve spent most of my time in Heaven doing the same thing over and over. I’d love to hear more about it sometime.”

“It’s a lot quieter now than it used to be, but I still enjoy Earth very much.” Aziraphale paused a moment. “We have a proposal for you. Rowan’s powers are becoming increasingly noticeable. To the point that it’s going to attract human attention. We’re probably going to be moving to the cottage until she learns to control them for however long that takes. It could be a few years, but the isolation there is perfect to keep things under wraps. We’d also know that you’re rather miserable up in Heaven since you took a stand against Gabriel and his plans. We have that guesthouse on the property, if you want to stay there a while. I know it’s just a temporary solution but maybe we can figure something else out later.”

He looked down at his hands in his lap before continuing. “I had to watch Crowley struggle with millennia of hostility when he was associated with Hell. We don’t want to watch you go through the same with Heaven. It’s not like you have to be up there to do your job. You can do it down here just as well.”

Lailah smiled at him. “You serious?”

Aziraphale nodded.

“What does Crowley say?”

“Crowley’s ok with it,” Aziraphale replied, then lowered his voice. “It was his idea. Just keep that to yourself, my dear girl.”

“I’d love to join you guys at the cottage. You have no idea how lonely it’s been in Heaven,” she gushed, taking both of Aziraphale’s hands in hers. “God can only make them toe the line so much. Many have been forgiven and taken back in to the fold, but not me. I instigated so I’m unforgiveable.”

“Did she take us up on the offer?” asked Crowley, reappearing with Rowan, who was dressed in a grey shirt with black leggings, which suited the demon’s taste.

“Yes, I did,” replied Lailah. “And what happened to the outfit I had her in?”

“She peed through it. I wish she’d figure out she doesn’t have to go to the bathroom like a human baby.” Crowley kissed her, set her down to play and slouched into an available chair.

Aziraphale got on the floor to give the baby a hug and kiss. “Don’t feel sorry for him. It’s not like he physically changes nappies or wet-through clothing.”

“I also don’t have to do laundry. It’s nice.”

“Can we treat you to a latte or two?” asked Aziraphale. “It’s the least we can do.”

“No thanks, Aziraphale. I should get back. And being down here is reward enough.”

Lailah said her goodbyes, gave everyone hugs, including Crowley who was never especially comfortable with anyone but Aziraphale touching him and let herself out of the bookshop.

“I suppose we really can’t put this off any longer, can we?” Aziraphale said as he looked at Rowan, who had developed a few scales along her hairline. He touched her head, making them disappear.

“No, angel,” Crowley said as gently as possible. “We really can’t. You need to be deciding what you’re taking with you.”

“I’ve lived here over five hundred years.”

“And the move is just temporary. It’s not like we’re selling the bookshop and leaving London forever.” Crowley went over to where he stood by the flat’s front door and put his arms around him. “Uh, she’s shining again and I can’t exactly correct divine light.”

The light went out. Rowan held her arms out to Aziraphale, saying “Dada.”

He picked her up. “Hopefully she never figures out how to make hell fire.”

“I wouldn’t worry. It’s not intuitive. You got to know the spell for that,” Crowley replied. “Shall I throw together some lunch or are we heading out?”

“Let’s just stay here. We’ve got work to do,” sighed Aziraphale. “Do you know how to make hell fire?”

“Yes,” Crowley’s tone was terse, indicating he didn’t want to talk about it.

Aziraphale had the sneaking suspicion he was instructed to use it on him if given the chance, an act Crowley could have never performed. Heaven wasn’t the most exemplary of institutions, but he had never been told to take out Crowley with holy water. He shuddered at those thoughts before putting them from his mind.

“We’ll help with lunch,” he said. “Afterwards, we’ll start figuring out what we’re packing.”

They spent the afternoon sorting through what they should take and what should stay, the demon being very patient when it took Aziraphale a long time to figure out what was going with him. Crowley’s support, as subtle as it was, did much to relieve Aziraphale’s nervousness about leaving.

A few days later they departed, moving down to the quaint cottage with its expansive gardens and little guesthouse. In that rural, isolated paradise, they hoped Rowan would grow in magical control. 


	19. The Cottage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vignettes into life with Rowan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter and I'm so sad now. 😭 This is probably going to end up a series of several stories because I like the idea of them raising a child. Plus I like how Lailah's come along as a character.

_Two Years Old_

“I want that!” screeched an upset Rowan, who had manifested her wings in her anger.

She wanted the rock Aziraphale had gently taken from her to keep her from accidentally throwing it through one of the cottage windows. Her newest love was tossing stones into the surf, but she’d settle for tossing them anytime or anywhere if she wasn’t down at the beach.

She had grown considerably, no longer a baby. Her curly strawberry blonde hair fell to her chin and was kept out of her face with barrettes. Like her hair, her face was a mix of both her parents with her inheriting Crowley’s large almond-shaped eyes and high cheekbones, which were still hidden under a chubby toddler face, and Aziraphale’s upturned nose and cupid’s bow mouth. The gold in her sky blue eyes had settled into a thin ring around her irises. She seemed to be a perfect fifty-fifty split between Aziraphale and Crowley, but they assumed with original angel stock as parents, something that uncanny would be expected.

“Rowan, my darling, you need to put your wings away,” Aziraphale tried to say over the screaming that brought Crowley to the backdoor.

He leaned there casually watching the scene, his fingers raised as if he was poised to snap them. “Want me to hit the mute button?”

“Crowley, no. We just have to learn how to deal with her temper,” replied Aziraphale. He gave him a slightly put-out look. “Apparently she’s inherited yours.”

“She’s two. They all have tempers.”

The wings had been snapped back into the celestial plane, but she was still crying and reaching for the rock Aziraphale held. Then suddenly she wasn’t there anymore, the grass leading away from where she stood rippling in a non-existent breeze.

“Oh, crap.” And Crowley was gone, too. A long black and red body slithered quickly after her.

Swiftly catching up to her, he cut off the small grey snake with a beige belly by encircling her until Aziraphale ran up a moment later and scooped her up. With a snap he turned her back into human form. She laughed at her little adventure.

“Well that’s a new development,” he commented as Crowley returned to his favourite form. 

“Rowan, you can’t turn into a snake,” Crowley told her. “You could get lost.”

“Daddy was a snake,” she giggled. “I was a snake, too.”

“I was a snake a long time ago, but I got over it. See? Now I look like this. I’d like to stay in this shape. It’s my favourite.” The demon still wasn’t comfortable with the title “Daddy” and really wished she’d just call him “Crowley”.

“Snake!”

“No snake, Rowan,” Aziraphale said. “You need to stay like this or you’ll scare people.”

Crowley was already counting down the days until she better understood magic and its consequences. It could not come soon enough in his opinion. 

“How about instead of being a snake, we go play on the beach?” Aziraphale suggested. 

“Yeah! Let’s go!”

“We’ll talk later,” he said to Crowley as Rowan led him off towards the water.

Crowley nodded and headed back in to finish putting away the produce he had harvested.

Lailah was already in there putting vegetables in the fridge. She looked up at his entrance.

“You look rather upset. Problems?”

“You have no idea,” he replied sourly. “I didn’t think raising a kid would be so much work and I was a nanny once upon a time.”

~*~*~

Rowan tucked into bed and asleep, Crowley and Aziraphale sat in the sitting room with glasses of wine. Normally Lailah joined them to laugh at Rowan’s latest antics. This one had her laughing so hard she almost cried. The whole snake incident wasn’t funny in Crowley’s opinion. The last thing he desired was to keep having to change into a reptile to chase down his daughter.

“Are you sure there isn’t any kind of spell we can put on her to keep this under control?” Crowley asked Aziraphale as they settled down together on the well-worn couch.

Lailah had seated herself on the chair, a mug full of her favourite latte in her hands. She took a few sips of it, looking innocently from Aziraphale to Crowley, trying not to giggle anymore at the snake incident. 

To think the Serpent of Eden had to chase after a wayward snake-shaped toddler.

“Not that I know of,” Aziraphale replied.

“This isn’t new, guys. She added a couple of wheels to her tricycle, too, the other day while you were in town running errands,” Lailah informed them. “She was quite proud of them.”

“Oh Loooord, heal this trike,” Crowley said in that sarcastic sing-song tone of his.

“That’s not amusing at all, my dear.”

Crowley leaned on him and took a sip of wine. “Little is when you’re dealing with a two-year-old. I can’t wait until she develops the ability to reason.”

Aziraphale laid his hand on Crowley’s knee, giving him a pat. “I guess we just keep reinforcing it. She’s learned not to take her wings out voluntarily unless we’re doing a flying lesson. Now if she’d learn enough self control to keep them in when she’s upset. But I don’t know what to do about her fixing her toys or things like that. She’s not doing anything wrong, _per se_.”

“Maybe you should tell her she needs to do it when one of us is around,” suggested Lailah.

“Not a bad idea,” Aziraphale replied, kissing Crowley on the top of his head. “You were the nanny. Are kids supposed to be this much trouble?”

“Yes, only adding magical ability to it makes it worse.”

“Lovely.” Aziraphale drained his wineglass. “What are we going to do?”

“Can I age her a bit? Just a couple of years.”

“No, Crowley. You don’t know the effects it’ll have on her.” Aziraphale reached for the wine bottle. He knew Crowley was most likely kidding, but it was best not to give him ideas.

“What if four’s more trouble than two?” Lailah asked innocently.

“I hope not,” murmured Aziraphale.

“It’s getting chilly in here,” said Crowley after a moment of silence. “How about a fire?”

The fireplace roared to life, flames snapping merrily among the logs there, washing them in soft light. Aziraphale’s hair shone with gold while Crowley’s eyes glowed with the reflection as they cuddled there watching it. Aziraphale pulled down the quilt folded on the back of the couch to throw over their legs.

“I take it you two want to be alone.” Lailah rose to head to the kitchen. “Have a good night and I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Night,” the two of them said in almost unison.

She saw herself out.

Smiling in the ambiance, Crowley reached over to deeply kiss his spouse. Aziraphale wrapped his arms around Crowley in return, sighing contently at the chance to spend some quiet time with him. 

~*~*~

_Five Years Old_

Rowan was coming into an age where she could start to understand a simple version of her own history, although both Aziraphale and Crowley kept it positive. She could learn the entire narrative from beginning to end later when she was old enough to handle such a truth. She knew she was a supernatural being, like her parents were. She remained ignorant of the fact that she had one angelic and one demonic parent. Crowley’s history would be enough to cause a small child nightmares – not that he was ever a very demonic demon, but his history was very much peppered with experiences grown adults with have trouble processing. Aziraphale’s would be easier to introduce, but they would do that when they could safely introduce both together.

She also knew that being a supernatural being meant being in possession of powers nobody else living on Earth had and having to know how to use the properly. Lessons had begun at an early age in an attempt to keep her out of trouble.

“I don’t wanna. I’m bored,” the child in question was saying, an irritated look on her face, arms crossed against her chest. 

Pinching his nose in frustration and exhaustion, Crowley dug deep for the patience he kept in reserve ever since they had started magic lessons with Rowan. Her control was growing admirably, but getting her to practice was sometimes the most difficult task in the world.

And how do you even begin to explain to someone so young that using your powers can have unintended consequences if you don’t do it perfectly? He and Aziraphale could use their powers in an extremely casual manner without worry. After six thousand-plus years of doing so, the ability was innate. Not so with a young child whose unintended messes they had had to clean up before someone who shouldn’t notice did. The rural location luckily prevented much damage from occurring, but there was that one incident where all the live lobsters for sale in the local market in town were suddenly observed to be wandering down the street. The townspeople chalked it up to some kind of prank.

Plus Crowley had been rather put out by what had happened to his rose garden. It had taken months to bring his treasured rose bushes back from the magical experience they had encountered accidentally at Rowan’s hands. They were still sufficiently traumatized enough that Crowley didn’t dare threaten them for fear they’d just curl up and die from the terror.

And trouble could easily manifest if she became upset, causing her control to slip.

“One more go then you can go see Lailah, ok?”

She angrily waved her hand, making the cup sitting on the kitchen table that was her target vanish, then reappear outside where she and Crowley sat. Unfortunately, her control wavered thanks to her current mood and the cup appeared not on the table where they sat on the back porch, but in the decorative fountain that was situated in the middle of the nearest flowerbed. 

“You didn’t even try.” Crowley vanished the cup back to the kitchen. “Let’s take a minute to calm down and you can do it again. Properly this time.”

“Papa’d let me go,” Rowan groused, her temper rising, causing her control to slip more.

Crowley put out a tiny flame that popped into existence at the corner of the table. The manifestation worried him immensely. She had never expressed destructive magic before, not even when she was having a tantrum.

“Well, I’m not him.” 

Aziraphale was a big old softy and most definitely wrapped around Rowan’s little finger which is why Crowley was in charge of the majority of the magic lessons. 

_Speak of the angel_ , thought Crowley as he saw, out of the corner of his eye, Aziraphale exit the cottage onto the porch with a cup of tea in his hands.

“Papa!”

Crowley groaned inwardly. He’d never get Rowan to concentrate now as all her attention would be on Aziraphale, the parent who was more than willing to indulge her every whim. A glare was shot the angel’s direction as Crowley got up from the table.

“Good job. I’ll never get her back to her lessons now.” He stalked off to find something to do in the cottage.

“I’m sorry, my dear!” Aziraphale called guiltily after him.

“Is that cocoa?” Rowan asked, giving her sweetest smile. 

“Of course it is, my darling,” replied Aziraphale, handing over the former cup of tea. “How did your lessons go?”

“They’re boring. I don’t like them anymore.”

“Well, you really need to be nice to your other father. He’s trying really hard to make sure you know what you need to know,” Aziraphale replied. 

But there was no getting through to Rowan until she had drank her cocoa and Aziraphale had promised to read to her. By then, the thought of lessons was long gone, much to Rowan’s delight.

~*~*~

They sat on the porch later, watching Rowan play on the swing installed in one of the taller, sturdier trees, singing some nonsense song she had made up as Lailah pushed her higher, laughing at the silly lyrics of Rowan’s tune.

“You can’t spoil her like that, angel. She’s going to turn into a brat. One with powers,” Crowley was saying. “If that’s not dangerous, I don’t know what is.”

Aziraphale spread his hands in a helpless gesture. “She’s only five. I fail to see how it’s going to affect her. It isn’t like we’re raising her without morals.”

“She’s going to be spoiled and that’s going to be a disaster to try to correct.”

Sipping the cup of cocoa he had, the angel gave the demon an irritated look. “That phrase is rich coming from someone whose in need of such creature comforts – lunches at the Ritz, expensive watches, the latest technology, the best suite at the hotel . . .”

“All right! But does doing any of that actually _harm_ anyone?” Crowley asked. “Sure. Table reservations happen to other people and I make parking tickets just disappear. But it’s not like I’m yanking a table away from diners while they’re in the middle eating when I do that and London issues enough parking tickets it’s not like me not paying one once in a while matters. You’ve burned your share of them for me over the years, too.”

Aziraphale made a disbelieving noise.

“I work within my own set of morals and you know that very well,” hissed Crowley crossly. “Maybe I do make money out of raw firmament, but it’s put into the humans’ economies. I bought that expensive watch rather than steal it off of someone like another demon might, for example. And have I ever once intentionally harmed an undeserving human?”

“No.”

“Would you trust someone who’s been raised to think she’s entitled to whatever she wants whenever she wants it to not potentially harm someone to get what she desires? Especially if she has the powers to do so? I told her no today and she manifested a flame on the table in her anger. It’s starting, angel. And she’s only going to become more powerful as she grows.”

There was no response from Aziraphale, just one of his what the demon called his “I’m Sick of Your Crap, Crowley” looks he had gotten used to getting over the long years. 

Crowley pressed on. “She’s part demon and I’m not going to gamble with that. We need to raise her right so that she never does decide to start exploring her more sinister roots. I know I wasn’t the epitome of what it means to be a demon, but I won’t leave it all to genetics and hope she grows up right. We’ve got one shot at this because we don’t want to be raising the replacement for the Antichrist.”

Aziraphale found he had a lot to think about as Crowley got up to go make dinner.

He had about a half an hour to ponder things before Rowan approached him begging to go play in the surf despite the weather not being warm enough for such activities. He gave her an indulgent smile, the “yes” right on the tip of his tongue until Crowley’s words popped back into his head.

“It’s a little cold for that, my darling,” he replied, allowing that “yes” to die without being uttered.

“But Papa, you can make it warm.”

“I know. But it’s time you learned that we can’t go around using our powers willy-nilly. That kind of behaviour can lead to trouble.”

It was the first temper tantrum of many he had to deal with as a result of putting his foot down.

~*~*~

_Eight Years Old_

“It’ll get her out socializing with others her own age,” Aziraphale was saying as the firelight flickered off the wine glass he was holding. “And she so wants to go to school. You know it would be bad of us to keep her isolated. She has to learn to navigate this world.”

Crowley was seated beside him on the couch, legs pulled up to his chin, arms laying across his knees, wineglass dangling from one hand. He was staring morosely into the fire. He shifted a bit under the quilt they were sharing, wiggling his bare toes.

“I know. It’s just going to be hard to watch her interact with humans and learn it’s so easy to get your heart broken when dealing with mortals.”

“You yourself told me we can’t coddle her, my dear.” Aziraphale looked slyly up at him from the book he was reading.

Crowley sighed and filled his wineglass with a wave. “No, we can’t. But that doesn’t mean I have to _like_ the choices we make, even if they are the right ones. And I think we should wait until we move back to London instead of starting her off somewhere then yanking her back out to move.”

“That sounds like the best way of going about it,” agreed Aziraphale. “We’ll have to tell her in the morning.” 

He went back to reading, giving Crowley a brief caress before doing so. Crowley uncurled his legs and shifted so he could lean against his spouse. He turned his head when he heard a knock at the back door.

“You guys busy?” called Lailah. “Or can I join you?”

“Come in!” replied Aziraphale.

Crowley refused move, continuing his cuddling of Aziraphale as Lailah entered. She was practically family; no need for formalities here. She knew what they were up to. It wasn’t exactly something she understood, as no other angels had ever developed such a relationship with another being, but she accepted their marriage as something they needed. 

“You two having another drinking session by the fire?” she asked when she saw the bottles of expensive wine setting on the coffee table, a couple of them already empty. “Are you to the point of talking about dolphins and their big brains?”

“Oi!” said Crowley, offended. “You can always go back to the guesthouse, you know. Go get your latte and get out of here.” 

“Hi Lailah, have a seat,” said Aziraphale.

“Why did you have to tell her that story?” grumbled Crowley.

Lailah collapsed into a chair. “So, what’s up?”

“We’re talking about sending Rowan to school,” said Aziraphale, rubbing Crowley’s back in a gesture of apology.

“Is that a good idea?” Lailah asked. “It’s not like she’s human. She’ll so easily outstrip them all since she doesn’t exactly act like your average eight-year-old the way she’s reading some of your Latin texts.”

“We can’t keep her here with just us for company. She’s going to have to learn to interact with them,” replied Crowley. “And hopefully her first encounter with humans will go more smoothly than mine.”

“What about her powers?”

“She has good control now,” replied Crowley, shooting Aziraphale a glance. “That came easily once I got _him_ to stop spoiling her.”

“You make it sound like I was ruining her, my dear.”

“You were.”

“Hello. I’m here. You two lovebirds can banter about it later, ok?” interjected Lailah. 

“Anyway,” said Aziraphale rather primly. “This means we’re probably heading back to London in about six months. Have you thought about your future plans, my dear girl?”

Lailah shrugged. “I thought I’d find a nearby apartment in Soho, if you guys don’t mind.”

“Flat,” corrected Crowley. “If you’re going to hang around London you should try not to sound so damned American.”

“I’m not American.”

“And I’m not English, but I’ve managed to pick up the dialect and accent quite nicely,” Crowley shot back. 

“Point taken.”

Aziraphale leaned close, feigning to kiss Crowley on the head. 

“Will you tone it down, please? What’s gotten into you?” he whispered.

“Ngk,” Crowley replied, although Aziraphale noticed him relax a bit as he felt the angel’s lips brush against his hair. He was probably upset their evening alone was interrupted, but Lailah needed some time with friends, too.

“Want to watch a film?” Aziraphale asked Lailah, feeling Crowley snort and attempt to crawl even closer to him, although that feat was not remotely possible without him crawling into Aziraphale’s skin.

Lailah took him up on his offer, meaning the demon had to spend the evening sharing not only the sitting room, but his husband, much to Crowley’s disgust.

~*~*~

Rowan’s blue-gold eyes were wide with disbelief at breakfast the next morning. “Are you serious? I can start school in the fall?”

“Yes,” smiled Aziraphale. “We’ll head back to London where we can find a good school for you and you can attend. You really need to start getting some interaction with humans. This is a good start.”

They had been up there with Rowan lately and Aziraphale had also been occasionally taking her with him when he opened the bookshop, where she enjoyed rooting through some of his collection. His hours right now were down to three days a week, but he planned to change that when they returned to the city full-time. He couldn’t wait to get back to his old routine and familiar favourite places. It was hard just going there to run the bookshop then having to return to the cottage at night even if the family he loved was there. London ran too deep in his blood. 

Crowley was going to miss the gardens, he knew, but they’d be back down on weekends so he could work in them to his heart’s content. He’d be happy to get back to London, too. The demon missed the opportunity to lunch at the Ritz, visit old haunts and head out occasionally to enjoy the nightlife when the mood took him. 

“Dad’s ok with this?” she asked Aziraphale, whispering because Crowley was at the stove fixing eggs for all of them. 

Aziraphale nodded. “Just keep yourself out of trouble, ok? You’re going to have to act more like a human eight-year-old, you know.”

Rowan acted more like a preteen than anything; they chalked it up to her being of angel stock. 

“I know, Papa,” she replied, but looked disappointed at that prospect.

Crowley walked over to the table, dumping frittata on the three plates there. “You know, it might not be a bad idea to put a glamour on her to make her appear older and put her in a higher year. She’s just going to get bored dealing with kids her own physical age.”

“Can we?” she asked. 

“All right,” conceded Aziraphale. “Who’s spoiling her now?”

“Making sure she gets something out of this is not spoiling her, angel. There’s no point if she’s so bored by the human kids she wants out after a month or two.” Crowley took the pan to the sink before sliding into a chair to enjoy his breakfast with his family. 

“Does it have to be a glamour?” asked Rowan. “I’m basically an eleven-year-old stuck in a eight-year-old’s body. Why can’t we just age me up?”

A look of shock crossed Aziraphale’s face. “Why would you suggest that, my darling? I love seeing you grow up. You’re the only child I’m ever going to have.”

She rolled her eyes in true Aziraphale fashion. “I’m also not normal. One of my parents is an angel, the other is a demon. Supernatural beings don’t have gender and can’t have kids. I’m here because of a spell because Heaven and Hell wanted another Antichrist. The Realms tried to take me when I was born, but God stopped them. I’m being raised by two fathers, but neither of my fathers is really male just like I’m not really female. And how many kids with two dads can say one of their fathers magically turned female for nine months so they could be born?”

Pausing a moment from enjoying his breakfast, Crowley waggled his fork at Aziraphale. “She has a point.”

But Aziraphale put his foot down and declared there would be no actual aging up of Rowan. It would be a glamour or nothing. It was decided to test it out after they ate.

Therefore much to Aziraphale’s dismay, Rowan grew up quite realistically after breakfast, becoming a somewhat tallish not-quite-teenager with stunning blue-gold eyes, beautiful strawberry blond locks, Crowley’s graceful serpentine movements and Aziraphale’s mannerisms. 

She was quite thrilled with the transformation, which didn’t seem to phase Crowley too much, either. Aziraphale found himself unable to handle it despite it being mere camouflage. He retired to his library for many hours, wondering how he was going to handle his little girl _actually_ growing up, until Crowley told him dinner was ready.

~*~*~

That autumn, Lailah sat in the back gardens, made beautiful by Crowley over the years, watching while the little family waded in the surf one last time before they headed back to London. Rowan was ready to face the world. It was time to turn this place back into a weekend home and return to the city they treasured.

The weekends spent in the flat above the bookshop was time well spent. They had taught her to love the city as much as they did. She was as excited to move back as they were. Lailah would be leasing the flat above the coffee shop around the corner as she had become an extended part of the universe’s most unusual family. None of them had anyone but each other, so the more the merrier. 

“Can we fly one last time before we move?” Lailah heard Rowan ask her fathers. “I know we’ll be back here on weekends, but . . .”

Knowing they’d indulge her and be gone a long time, she went to the kitchen to do the washing up, which she did by hand because she found it relaxing, and any other tidying that needed done. When that was finished, she headed to the guesthouse to put the last of her possessions in boxes. The most precious items were the shells Rowan had given her over the years. 

She carefully wrapped them and added a spell just in case to keep them safe. She’d vanish most of her boxes to her new place tomorrow morning, leaving one or two for the Bentley’s magically expanded trunk to give the impression she was moving in like a normal person.

The sun was beginning to set when she heard a shout that announced Rowan, Crowley and Aziraphale had returned from their flight. 

She peeked out the open window to see them land – the tall lithe figure with the sleek black wings, the shorter, pudgier one with slightly dusty white ones and the strawberry blonde impossible child with her ever-so-special black and white mottled wings that had never been seen in any of the Realms before and never would again. Tinged with the pinkish-orange light of the setting sun, they walked hand-in-hand back to the cottage, the picture of perfect happiness after so much strife. 


End file.
